I once met a flower who took the great risk of unfolding herself in front of me.
I don’t know why she did it. Her cocoon was safe; the color she was once wrapped in hid perfectly among the lush tropical green. Far different were the streaks of orange, yellow, and even (gasp!) indigo that she wore when she emerged.
To be so colorful is perilous. To be so delicate in a tough world, even more. I never asked her to expose herself to a million possibilities of harm, but perhaps that is why she felt safe enough to do so. And because she gave herself so freely to me, I paused near her bush on my daily walks for the whole month she pirouetted on her stalk.
If we let the echoes of our own minds take over, we would never do what she did. If we listened to our egos every time they said that risk is bad, we would never be met with the kind of appreciation she received from me.
