The Eagle

Filed under Opinion/Editorial

Wildflowers

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Vincent Van Gogh once said, “Even the knowledge of my own fallibility cannot keep me from making mistakes. Only when I fall do I get up again.” This quote can be interpreted as him thinking that no matter how hard we try, it is inevitable that we will slip up because otherwise we would not be able to rise. It is as if we must take a step back in order to move further forward. A sign of self-awareness seems to be being able to admit and understand that we have experienced failure. Many believe that making mistakes is acceptable if we learn from our imperfections. But must there always be a sense of achievement at the end of the tunnel? Should we always strive for better?

Desire for perfection can make people dissatisfied. As a journalist for this newspaper, I have felt the need for the work I create to appeal to a larger fraction of my audience. In fact, before writing this article I attempted to approach a topic that I thought would be popular amongst those who could read my pieces. I had finished the draft and was ready to submit it, when I felt as if something was missing. I read it back to myself and did not recognise the document in front of me. It pained me so much to see it that I started to cry. It was not what I wanted to portray or discuss. That was when I realised that I would have to leave it, and start again.

I could have seen this as a waste of time. I had no piece to put forward and I would have to spend more of my day on something that could have already been finished. I learnt from that moment. I later understood that the only place I could find a subject to write about, was through examining my own experience. This left me to consider the subject of failure and inadequacy and to question the nature of this concept. Who decides what is not good enough? Then I realised that actually, it is me who draws the line. It is my work and I have a duty to keep it mine by putting the hurt and joy of this world into the sentences I write. We all seem to have little blemishes, stains and quirks. We all seem to be difficult to tame. “My hair grows and grows; you cannot stop it – that fellow grows, it grows wild.” is what A.P.J. Abdul Kalam said. His existence, much like ours it seems, cannot be contained and is to be left to roam freely. Like wildflowers we are a coat to the landscape, a divine throw imitating the shape of the earth gone astray, and that is what we were always supposed to be.  Flawlessly flawed.

 

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