Upon awakening I started to walk around the house within which I just became a visitor. Thus I came across this amazing sculptured scene contained within a small, simple box. As I swung open its flimsy doors, it unveiled to me an astoundingly fantastical realm hidden within its tiny confinements. Its thoughtfully choreographed scene bloomed with magical stories exploding with imagination and fantasy. It rightly took my breath away.
As I gazed into this enchanted world of an unknown to me artist, my mind immediately flooded with impressions of stories being spun by the horny “blue” goat seated amongst the two females, all behind a table set for what looked, one could almost smell it, like an irresistibly delicious feast, just about to begin. And so, as the ladies began to pour drinks and serve delicacies, I, as an expected visitor from outside, felt graciously invited. And thus totally transposed into my imaginary mind, I left my large clumsy human body behind to join the magical gathering within the tiny wooden boxed world of infinite possibilities.
All ears now, I listened intently to the fantastical stories the green face, pink horned goat started to spin. While the ladies at his sides continue to serve, they intently skewed their heads to catch all his words better. As though to the rhythmic beat of his fable, the two youngsters began to dance. And as this realm of magical tales, bursting with deities as well as demons was verbally being woven by the gentle goat, his imaginary depictions began to formulate on the walls, initially only directly behind them all. But then, with the wall thus filled, also all around, transforming the tale into the magical reality for all those within, as well as those unexpected guests whom the artist must be hoping to entice.
Clearly and understandably, the storyteller being himself a goat, most, but not all, of his characters are of his own goatish kind. But, since the goats do not live by themselves, and the storyteller being a hospitable one, a few others, more bird like, appeared too. But, as it is in folktales and myths span by us humans, so here too, the goats come in all shapes, colors and forms, wearing masks, pretending to be others than themselves, acting out and bringing to vivid life the tale being generated by their imaginative maker.
Quite envious of such a very simple and so very rich and luscious life these characters within the miniature box are living, or the artist who created them must had experienced before he could communicate them to others, I quietly bid farewell to my gracious hosts and exited, reverting back to my gravity restrained and reality restricted human body.
Continuing my exploration of the house, with deep impression of the marvelous box still in my mind, I ventured out into a garden. Here I discovered another world, one that is all organically real, natural in every sense of its expression, radiating with all colors, diverse in its gamut of textures, shapes and richly penetrating scents. I froze there with my eyes open wide, nose dumbfounded and mouth parted in astonishment, it maybe envious of the other senses, eager to taste that which the eyes and nose were now experiencing?
Upon closer look, touch and instinctive reflections, this amazing scenery was projecting its own world of imaginative stories span by nature itself. Whether for its own pleasures, elations and satisfaction, or for me to discover, I stood there totally dumbfounded by the unrivaled artistry of the Nature’s creative imagination and its infinite palette of aptitudes. And so, I looked closer and opened my own imagination to the flowers ogling back up at me, as though inviting me to advance, to reach out to them, to look closer and discover.
As I stepped into their world, the green facade dividing our realms seemed to dissipate, unveiling to me a rare peak into their life, at times communal or in others individualistic.
Intuitively lured to probe, explore, and uncover their unique world, riches and mysteries, I heeded their invitation, walking, observing, smelling, touching ever so tenderly, feeling and reflecting. As I did so, within my budding mind an idea begun to brew and formulate into a new possibility, one I had never considered previously. What stories would flower divulge to us if they could find a language comprehendible to both of our species, which while so disparate are yet so close in the sense of proximity of our existence, the space we share, the air we breathe, the ground we sprout out of and afterwards rest our footing and in fact our entire physical existence upon, sharing even the very matter from which we are all created? Wouldn’t this be an astounding, a perception altering conversation?
As I queried them with my hungry probing eyes, deep inviting whiffs, caressing touch, as though grateful and welcoming my curiosity and broadmindedness, they began to gaze back at me. And thus, so it appeared to me, we established a breathtaking eye contact.
And the closer I peered the more intently and with increasing curiosity, they gazed back. One could define this unique experience as a blooming “Encounter of a Flowery Kind”.
The closer, still keener and the more investigative my peek-in, the more curious became their cognizance of my presence there, and my interest and desire to connect with them.
Is it probable that they have been waiting for ever, dreaming of a moment when others, larger then bees, insects or hummingbirds, express such an deep awareness of their intense beauty, amazingly intricate designs and stunningly flavorful bucket of aromas?
For suddenly, they seem to have emerged from within their “petally” enfolded hideouts.
Imagine, let your eyes hear, the nose drink, fingers taste and the mind spin the probable stories they are projecting to us by their intricately multifaceted shapes, breathtakingly innovative and boundlessly unique in design artistry, and the truly infinite assortment of smells, choreography and staging of their performance, composition of their chorale, the way they wave and sway in the wind, whether simply enjoying the breeze or instead to entice our, or birds or bees attention to themselves, or to stand apart from all the others, trying to differentiate themselves from the crowd, ascertain their own individuality, or on the contrary, gather in groups, or even colonies, to form social communes of their own.
Upon closer contemplation, I began to deem possible synergies between these flowerily families and those of the human kind. I soon recognized that here too we have much in common. Human parents, and I as one of such, able to speak from own very personal experience, are very protective of our offspring. Majority of us not only guard them but shield them as well. The same can be said of most animal species. Of course there are exceptions to every rule. However, such odd minorities are not the topic of this article.
Flowers just like humans and other animals seem to project the same feelings. This you will notice more and more, grasping it with an increasing clarity in the issuing episodes of this series of blogs and imagery they will offer. As though instinctively, the matured members of the closely gathered families are protectively surrounding their young ones. It is not just that the copiously bloomed and experienced ones seem to be very actively tilting their faces in all the directions, as though caringly and intensely scanning horizon for any latent dangers to their precious, delicate and far from fully developed offspring.