Dandelion Rant

Take a look at all this wonderful creation we are surrounded by on a daily basis. Too often we forget to stop and look. To take a moment to smell the roses, or daffadiles, or dandelions, or weeds for that matter. We are constantly looking for the next best thing – so phoe to that simple dandelion growing out from under all of that pavement, tumultuous life, with the constant traffic of it all. How ungrateful of any of us to walk by that simple dandelion without stopping to say “I admire you. I could not do it myself.”

For whom among us could even dare to grow and prosper (or in some eyes, plague) in such an environment? We are all at a loss, and at some point in our lives, something begins to trod all over the top of us. Snagging our air. Rinsing away our nutrients. Evaporating our water. And still, the dandelion comes out on top. Yes, it somehow manages to rise above the concrete, shine it’s yellow pastey light on those of us who bother to stop and take a look, and finally, catch the eye of one who dares to stop, bend down, and PICK the flower – rescuing it from a life of despare, only to be placed in the hands of an ungrateful teacher who kindly smiles at the child who saved this dandelion and throws it over the park bench as soon as a back is turned.

Ahh, the plight of the dandelion. Withstanding so much, only to be turned into a wilted stub of a plant, or a fluffy weed – signifying a dandelion epidemic in the so carefully manicured yard (most importantly amongst a child who knows these special weeds to be 100% capable of granting a wish with the hush of a breathe).

And then we grow up, and realize that it was all a hoax. No dandelion, dead or alive, has the power to grant a wish. Although I am convinced that we all walk past the delicate dandelion seeds only hoping that we could yet again, bend down and pluck the dandelion, in all it’s fervor, only to let our hopes and dreams and wishes escape away in the form of one mighty breath – and it is in that one breath, one simple exchange of carbon monoxide for some measly and polluted oxygen, that we find our hearts desires. Brought to life by one breath. For one split second, it is okay to hope like a child again. To wish like a child again. To see like a child again. To BE a child again.

What was your last wish? Or better yet, what was the wish that you only wished you could have instilled in those pesky dandelion seeds that last time you walked past a fuzzy little dandelion?

Is it ironic that we, a society that cherishes life, invest so much in a dead weed – that will only cause us more trouble in the end? Maybe this is what life comes down to. How many of us invest our time, our efforts, our breath, into a wish that will inevitably be the root of demise for our neighbors? How selfish have we become, as a culture, that our wishes, our desire for happiness, must intrude upon our neighbors well-manicured lawn. And for all but a glimmer, a glimpse, a breath of hope. That one day, soon, our dreams will come true.

Wake up and smell the roses.

Quit putting yourself first.

Quit pissing off your neighbor.