Dying Flowers

  
   I felt almost like hitting him. "Insolent child! How dare you!"

.   .   .

  
   There I was, sitting on a bench in the park, enjoying the fragrance of blossoming flowers from the nearby bushes. Along he came. Armed with a pair of scissors, he clambered onto the bench and reached for the highest flower. Snip! It was cut. Dead to the world. Never to live again.

   Well, I'm a timid person. I don't react openly when things aren't my way. But my mind was racing; tearing this kid apart: Why? Where do such thoughtless actions come from? Where is the father of this child, who would have certainly prevented such an occurrence? Where is he?

   Lagging he was, but not too far behind. To him I'll give a piece of my mind, I thought to myself. As I approached, the father bent down and took the flower from his son. Hugging him tightly, he said: "Thank you."

   With all my politeness, I'm sure my ire must have seeped through my words: "How could you let your child bring about death to a poor flower? What did it do wrong? Have you no appreciation for beauty?"

   Said he to me: "Look at the bigger picture! Know that flowers were created to bring joy to people like you and me. Can't you see the delight I have in my child's deed? And as for the flower - in time another will grow on this very branch; just as lovely. To bring another smile to one more father."

.   .   .

   We look around us, and all we see is the death of flowers. Some neatly cut, others roughly pulled off their branches. At times even just a normal wind seems enough to sever them from their source of life. We want to scream out; to yell at the father that could let all this happen. The one who seems to let things spin out of control. Can our father not see the pain, the loss?

   Sometimes we're lucky. We are explained the way things really work; the way they're seen from the true perspective. We see the smile on the fathers' face, and we know intuitively that the right thing was done. But what about the rest of the time? Other dying flowers? When will the time come that we will be able to forever see the fathers' smile?

   I hope and pray that the day comes soon. But until then, I'll rely on my faith. After all, Daddy always knows best.

(For the sake of honesty (and for those who don't get it) I must say that this story never happened. It is a product of my thinking.)
 

Change

 
   Everything around me seems to be changing. Everyone is running too fast for me. New occurrences are pushing moments I want to treasure to the back of my file cabinet, to be replaced by newer and less savory stuff. Now the older files will be harder to find. If only there would be a way to keep some time-confined moments truly timeless.

   Alas, I know that the path upon which I tread will soon be overtaken. Perhaps by many, perhaps by only one. But overtaken it will be; never again to be the same. I hear them saying: "Why give more to the present than a moments' notice? Let your eye casually pass over it; like vanilla to the chocolate lover. Just skip it. We live in the past and future; in the bliss of the unknown and unseen."

   To myself though, I'm unconvinced. I say to myself: "Take the strongest, the heaviest of those moments and freeze them; those that weigh upon the heart. At the very least freeze-dry them so they'll keep their smell longer. Tomorrows' unknown need not be a reason to forget today's sights, smells, and tears. Bottle them up inside you and only open them when the time is right. Do this and in the driest of deserts you'll always have the smell of the morning after the rain."
     

Contemplation

  
   A most used expression in Chassidus is 'Hisbonenus' - contemplation. Often we wonder: What does this mean? Can I really do this?

   Yes you can. We all have the mechanism in us to properly contemplate, it's just that we use it for other things. For example, if someone offends you, the natural instinct is to chew it over. Why did he say that? What did he mean? How can I teach him a lesson? Moreover, we speak about it to our friends to get more insight into the matter.

   If spiritual matters are as pertinent to us as the physical, we'd be able to contemplate about it. The problem only lies in the fact that it isn't as important.

   Now we've got homework.
 

Dunno

 
   He is a master shoulder shrugger. He does it all the time. To every question I ask, I know by now that I'll receive the same response: "I don't know".

   Just a second. Before you start chiding me for saying that being truthful is a bad trait, allow me the liberty of explanation. If he'd only tell me this when I asked him a thoughtful question, I'd understand. But when I ask him a question like 'How long will you take to finish your shower', or 'Do you want me to wait five minutes for you', it gets annoying to have someone who is unwilling to take the responsibility to keep his word and therefore shirks into the amazingly wide expanse of uncertainty. In a way I'm jealous; he can do whatever he wants. But is that the way to deal with a question posed to you by someone who wants an answer?

   I'd love to tell him what I think. I want to say to him: "If you give me an answer, you'll have a goal to attain. When you then keep your word, you will have checked another box in your minds' chart. You will have grown."

   But what can I do? If I give him a piece of my mind I'm scared I'll receive the response: "Maybe your right; I don't know".
   

My Dawn

 
   For a second I shudder. I wonder if you'll succeed again. After all, you seem today to be having a hard time. All the odds are against you. The clouds, rain, and sky itself bespeak prevailing darkness.

   Looking around me, the black clouds seem to cover the earth in a definitive fashion. Why, they seem to challenge me to a duel which they are sure they will win. And the rain - it's what makes this darkness hit home. In its drops it seems to carry the clouds' message into my face. Every drop says to me: "Just give up. It'll be dark forever."

   I'm not so easily convinced, though. I've known you for too long. You'd never succumb. But I still question myself: Where are you? Must you always test my trust in you? Do you really want me to fall off the cliff of doubt?

   My morbid thoughts notwithstanding, I look up at the sky above me, and behold - there is change. There is some light skirting the edge of the ominous clouds, making the rains' hue lighter too. I speak aloud, hoping you'll listen in: "I knew you'd make it. You were testing me, and I passed. All I need to do is see a drop of your light and I know that more will follow. Soon the air will carry a different tune. Brighter. More alive."

   And indeed, you succeed to the extent that later on in the day I am foolish enough to think that this was just another dawn; one oft repeated. But little do I know.
    

Openness

 
   Being an open person is a notable trait, I believe. However, if you're an open person you should be open about everything, including the fact that you demand more of yourself. Therefore, in the same breath that you tell someone "I did wrong, and I'm not ashamed to speak about it", you should also be able to say "I hope not to do this again". If living a moral life means aspiring to higher standards, that should be a part of your openness.

   It seems to me that open people can be put into several categories:

   1) Someone who will be totally open about himself, but is not aspiring to become better. Such a person can be viewed as using openness as a way to make it easier for him to do what he wants; he doesn't have to hide it. I'd venture to say that this type of openness is a reflection of today's carefree society, where doing what you want is the norm. This should not be the case in Judaism; our religion tells us there is more to life than our desires.

   2) Someone who will be totally open about himself, but is not using his openness as an excuse; he still expects more of himself. This is an inspirational type of openness; speaking with such a person will leave you with the impression that "He's in the same boat as me", "If he can do it, so can I". Such a person realizes that he must aspire in order to achieve, and exudes this inspiration to others.

   3) This is the not-open person. Although he may be working on himself, he isn't open about it. This leaves others with a sour taste in their mouths, e.g. "He's really the same as me, he's just too proud to admit it", etc. Needless to say, this type of person doesn't inspire others .

   Looking at these three categories it's easy to conclude that the ideal form of openness is the the second one we have discussed. Such a person is living for real, and at the same time is able to speak about his shortcomings to everybody who is ready for serious conversation. This is the form of openness that I believe in the long run will inspire and astonish other not-so-open people.

   So do what's right and good luck.
    

'Honesty'

 
   Authors' note: Here's an issue I've been thinking about the last while. Feel free to retain your opinion on the subject. Please do not be offended by the harsh tone; I think I make my point better this way. For this reason I've also used the first person terminology.

.   .   .

   In the last few years I've been hearing it more and more. It's the argument of Honesty. Of Openness.

.   .   .

 
   You tell me you're being honest with yourself. You say: "If I feel a certain way or if I want a certain thing, I should have no problem being open about it". Sounds like a nice way to live a life, no?

   I say not. Though there may be good aspects to such an openness, it has a major flaw. Namely, it leaves the decision of right and wrong to the individual. People like you say "I must be open with myself; if I want it I must be able to have it".

   As humans, Jews, and believers, we ought to know that our wants are not necessarily in tune with the truth. We were given an incomplete nature to work with, and our job is to tame it. It follows therefore, that if you desire a certain thing, you must first be sure it is a correct desire before you pursue it. If you then do it anyways you should at least be open enough not to call it 'Honesty'.

   Moreover, there is a limit to this 'Honesty'. There is a boundary somewhere that you won't pass, saying: "I know I want to do this, but I can't. I just can't." Tell me now, what happens to your 'Honesty' then? If you want it, why can't you bring yourself to have it?

   No; everyone has a standard. It differs only in that some of us want an easier time, so we say that some things "I'll accept of myself doing, because I'm honest". Is that Honesty? Is that Openness?You're just too lazy to work hard! Living a truly honest life is about always raising your standard, not lowering it.

   Don't get me wrong. I've done wrong in the past, and will do again in the future. But since I'm raising my standard, I'll be (rightly) embarrassed of things I did that don't rise up to it. This is a good form of 'Dishonesty'.

   So go ahead; be honest. Don't let your own desires get in your way. Look objectively and realize that you were created to improve yourself.