The Flowers

I’ve had something on my mind for the past couple of days, I’ve thought about it a lot, but I’ve been struggling to put it in to words.

It seems a simple topic, or well it might seem a simple topic to most other people, but for me its more than a opinion, or my own taste in decorating, it’s more like…how can I put this; the way I see life.

I’ve been thinking about flowers.

I believe the whole world knows by now that I’m getting married in about a month. I’ve decided a long time ago that I don’t want any flowers at my wedding, I’m using branches and leaves as decorations. I decided this without even a second thought, or looking for a reason as to why, or considered that flowers may be “prettier”.

It wasn’t until this past weekend that I began to think about it, to wonder why, it wasn’t such a struggle to figure out, but it was good realising why.

Our wedding photographers came to the farm, and we went out looking for good spots for our photo session. The photographer asked me what flowers I’m using at the table, for I moment I was stuck in a panic : flowers!!

She liked my idea about the leaves, she agreed with me that flowers is so “everyday”, which was my reply. But that’s not really the reason why. I think she thought I’m not a flowery kind of girl.

I love flowers! I adore the hell out of them. My friends call me flower child, I think some of them has even forgotten my real name. I get crazy happy and excited whenever I’m in a garden, and nothing makes me as happy as planting flowers in the garden. About 75% of my wardrobe are just flowery tunics. My first tattoo was that of a cosmos flower, it’s on my forearm so that I can look at it every day, so that people can see it and know that I love flowers.

But, a flower in a vase? Even as a kid I didn’t even pick flowers to put in my room. I didn’t like it. I still don’t like it.

Without wanting to sound like a hippie, (or a Buddhist monk) flowers lose their beauty the moment they are picked and rearranged to suit our desires. Flowers aren’t meant to be arranged and bundled up with other flowers to “look a certain way” or suit a specific occasion.

The flowers belong in the field where they were planted, where they grow, clearly this is where they want to be. When you pick it, you take the life away, you take the beauty away.

When I see a room filled with vases of flowers, I see death. I see panicked faces. I see the face of enslavement.

You might think, what’s the difference with the leaves and branches I’m using for decorations then. The answer is simple, and selfish I’m afraid: I don’t feel personally connected or attached to leaves.

I’m not much of a feminist. Well, I don’t really know the complete definition of a feminist, but whenever I hear the word I immediately imagine a bunch of women trying to break down men. So I’m pretty ignorant.

However, I am quite feminine. Yes, I like chick flicks, dresses and ducklings. Mostly I see myself as a kind of flower. At least, I yearn to be. I also want to be gently and lovely. I want to be free, to feel the wind blowing through my hair. I also want to feel loved by the kisses of the sun. I want to grow with the seasons.

But mostly I want to be able to be in the life that I belong.

You see, flowers are free.

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