Hello dear stranger, since you are here, for whatever reason, reading my thoughts and peeking inside my soul, I feel like I should at least say hi. I could be British and ask you “How are you doing?” but that would be non-genuine, I don’t know you, I don’t know anything about you. I could instead be Italian and just say “Ciao” but you might think I am saying goodbye because perhaps you are more accustomed to Portuguese… Ok, I am making lots of assumptions here, since I am doing it, I’ll push it a little bit further and just pretend that you are something, that’s how we are going to have an honest interaction.
I will take this image as inspiration, pretending that you are what I am looking at. I see you got some life going on there, nice, very nice. You remind me of a pregnant woman, beautiful, not in a creepy way.
I wish you a majestic blossoming, it might be brief but what isn’t? It’s all ephemeral and relative and relatively ephemeral. We should all make the most out of each fleeting moment even if life, with its randomness, always catches us by surprise. You might feel like the time is perfect, it must be spring, you sense that the temperature is good enough but none of your fellow cherries is blossoming yet, what do you do? I really admire you, it must be really hard and risky to be the first one that’s brave enough to take a shot.
But what does it mean to take a shot? Is it to blindly trust your sense of the temperature and risk the odd cold day right afterwards or is it to ignore the warm day and wait for maybe another cold one before blossoming? It’s all a juggling of time and options. Time becomes more limited, life becomes more precious, experience increases but why? Because we made mistakes… because we took the “wrong shots”. Were they wrong if they led us to where we are now? Subjects of a picture that a rando is talking to on the internet without any particular reason?
I don’t know. I only have questions but I’ll tell you what, I don’t know you but you are helping me finding answers.
You might blossom so to bear delicious fruits that are going to be the vehicle to provide your DNA a few more shots even after you are gone at this “game of life”. Or you might just blossom for pure show. Just because you can, because you believe that’s your purpose and that’s OK. I can only joyfully smile at any form of expression that has the ultimate goal of touching other souls one way or another.
You are a tree, I am a person, or at least I believe I am and yet you touched me. If somehow I touched you too, I was wrong, you weren't a tree but now you know I am an honest person. You can blossom again just to remind me.
— Hello, dear stranger. Since you've stumbled upon these words and peeking inside my soul, let us begin with a heartfelt greeting. "Hi." There’s no pretence here, no meaningless pleasantries. I do not know you, after all. I could have been British and have asked you “How are you doing?” but that would be non-genuine. I could instead be Italian and just say “Ciao” but you might think I am saying goodbye because perhaps you are more accustomed to Portuguese…
So many assumptions but since I am doing it…
Let’s embark on an honest interaction, shall we? Picture this: you are the embodiment of the image before me. There’s a vibrant energy about you, akin to life itself. Nice, very nice. Much like the splendour of expectancy in a soon-to-be mother. Non in a creepy way.
I wish for you a majestic blossoming. It may be transient – but then, what isn’t? Our existence is fleeting, moments slipping through our grasp like grains of sand that don’t fall at the bottom of the hourglass but that are lost forever instead.
Do you feel this? All this randomness? I do too, it’s like if the grains of sand that represent our time are not only falling and disappearing but in the process are also span around by strong winds coming from all directions.
You took a chance there, you must have felt that the time was ripe for you to blossom even if your peers didn’t do it. You, daring to unfurl in solitude, earn my silent applause. The courage to be the harbinger of spring does not go unnoticed.
To take a shot – what does it truly mean? Is it to trust one's intuition of the warm days, disregarding the risk of a looming frost? Or is it to shelve that trust, anticipating yet another chill before daring to bloom?
It’s all a juggling of time and options. Time becomes more limited, life becomes more precious, experience increases but why? Because we made mistakes… because we took the “wrong shots”. Were they wrong if they led us to our current standing? As subjects of a picture that a rando is talking to on the internet without any particular reason?
I cannot claim to have the answers. Yet, your silent presence guides me toward them.
Perhaps you bloom to yield fruit, a testament to life’s tenacity, offering your essence a chance to persist beyond your physical departure in this grand game of life. Or perhaps your bloom is art for art's sake – a display of existence because you sense that is your purpose. Whichever the case, it prompts in me a smile, a celebration of life touching life.
You are a tree, and I am purportedly a person, and yet we connect. If my words have reached you, stirred something within, then perhaps you are not just a tree. And in knowing this, I recognize an honest connection. When next you blossom, it will be a reminder – not just of nature's cycle, but of this shared moment between us.