Reflections on Myself

All you needed, is this, instant, to help you make changes in your attitude about life, translated…

I’d gone to the flower marketplace to shop a few days ago.  The flower market close to my home was located inside a building, run by the city government.  Now, there are, rarely any indoor-type marketplaces without air-conditioning, and the flower market was equipped with it, like many other indoor marketplaces; every summer, the shops can only rely on the artificial winds from up above, and don’t know if it’s because of this, the business wasn’t doing too well here, and, you rarely see the shop owners smiling too.

like this???  Not my photo…

I took my old pots to the shop I’d frequented the most, they have high quality orchids, and all the flowers are, showing off their colors there, using their beauty, to attract, no matter which plant I’d picked, on the way home, I’d felt that force of life from the flowers I bought, along with the scent of excitement the potted flowers had, meeting their owners.  The shop owner was nicknamed “Captain”, but I’d never called him such, because he looked like a scary man, someone I’d, normally, feared, like if I tried to be friendly, it would, insult him.

I’d entered into the shop, trying to pick out a moon orchid, handed my vase, and had the captain make a floral arrangement for me, he’d immediately told me, that another carrot fern would fit better into my vase, and, although his words were, “What, do you think?”, but his looks told me, “this one is it, no need to doubt me.”

like this?  Not my art…

He was very swift, placed in the shaved up wood dusts, the barks, and other materials, and quickly, found a place for the carrot fern to settle down in.  The captain who’d kept his head lowered at work turned his eyes a couple of times—I’m thinking, that that, must’ve been a habitual move when he was thinking, he’d immediately turned around, grabbed a few decorations, and, tried them on one by one, mumbling to himself.

On the way home, I’d carried that small arranged pot of flower close to my heart, the small wooden giraffe, with the beautiful moon orchid, with a small wooden horse next to it, they’d added that sort of childish innocence to the elegance of my arrangement, from the rarely smiling captain there was, a heart of a child hidden.  It seemed, that I’d, misjudged him from the very start.  And, that made me realize about my observations about people.  For the extra time that I had that day, I’d blocked my stereotypes from coming out.  As I walked, and when I see men or women looking tense, I’d smiled at them, and, usually, I’d get a reply in smiles back.  Later on as I worked out in the parks, the Pomeranian and Shiba inu with their own minds came too, and I’d no longer, dodged them as I usually would, instead, I’d, suppressed my own fears, and strangely enough, they’d, not barked at me; after following their owners off, they’d, turned their heads back to me, as if, to invite me to watch them striding off.

Yes, I have, a reflective window, as I bumped into someone, my guards were, automatically up, and became this, watch towers.  But, as those things and people passed through my mind, they’d gotten, distorted, and no longer transparent anymore.  I’m thinking, the openness I’d longed for in life, probably, lies in, me removing this block in my mind.

So, it’s a wonder, how picking up some flowers can have such an immense effect on you, isn’t it?  You’d started, seeing things from an alternative angle now, and, you’d realized, that you were, locking the world outside, not letting anything get in, and that it’d, caused you more harm than good, and now, you’d finally, decided, to lift that block away!

Advertisements

Talk to Me...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s