The rose and the lotus

A rosebud couldn't stand being itself. He simply felt like he was suffocating. It had been going on for so long, he couldn't even remember how long. He couldn't stand it any longer, so he turned to the large flowering lotus not far from him and asked it:

  • How did you manage to bloom?
  • I don't know, it just happened, there is nothing to do…
  • Yes, but what steps did you go through?
  • What can I say… I spent a lot of time sitting around doing nothing, and then one day it happened all of a sudden, I even remember the day it happened.
  • You mean there's nothing to do?
  • No, nothing at all!
  • Yes, but I suffer, I would like to stop suffering and be a beautiful open flower that doesn't suffer like you! I must do it wrong?
  • You will never be like me, since you are already yourself. A rose is not a poppy or a lotus. It happens differently for everyone. Sometimes the flower opens in one night, sometimes it takes all its time, slowly, sometimes it even opens then closes, before opening again.
  • Ah… So I have to find my own way?
  • No, just look at your own way of being.
  • That's easy for you to say, you were born on smooth, clear water. I had to fight, look, I even have thorns to defend myself.
  • What do you know about my story? I was born in the mud, and it took me a long time to get out before I bloomed.
  • Yes, but I still don't understand… To open you, you had to stretch your petals?
  • No, my petals opened by themselves. My only mistake during this time was to believe that every time one of them opened, I thought I was going to die, so I suffered a lot. Now I understand: of course I am dead, because I am not a button anymore. Death is an illusion, as much as the small limited button that you believe to be.
  • Do I have to let myself die to bloom?
  • You don't have to do anything. You can just watch what is happening every moment and marvel at what is happening. You have no way to act, you can just trust the life that is passing through you and is blooming, without judging what is happening. Feel the rain on your cheeks, without wondering if it's right or wrong. Feel the contractions of your petals without telling yourself that they shouldn't contract. Feel your fear of dying, since it is legitimate: you are dying every moment. Love it all, and sooner or later you will bloom.