When looking at a plain, white piece of paper the thought
that runs through our mind is that it looks so innocent. It’s thin, but in the
same breathe its sturdy. It is here to serve a purpose; it is strong enough to
embrace the heavy pressing of a pen. It is strong enough to let someone
scribble, write or draw what they want to, without this papers consent. We
continue to look at this paper, we hold it between our index finger and our
thumb and we flap this paper up and down, realizing how thin this paper really
is. We think this paper can handle anything, and so we hold it up and focus on
the centre.
Slowly the centre of this sheet starts to turn a light shade of grey, which then develops into a yellow tinge. Strange, how this one plain white sheet didn’t even need something tangible to taint it. As we continue to stare at the designs this taintedness takes, our mind wonders in awe and we begin to notice the centre turning a charcoal black. The flame which creeps up and licks the paper as a hungry demon is unstoppable, yet so beautiful that when it starts to engulf the centre of the paper I notice my undivided attention is no longer for the paper, but now, for the flames.
It feels like that in life, in this moment. We are born into this world a white piece of paper and though we might appear to be clean and innocent at the start, through the progression of our lives we slowly become tainted. We start to receive the smoke that everyone hands to us and we as the paper shape that smoke, to create a design on us that we think best describes who we are and what we represent.
But like each piece of individual paper, we can only handle so much smoke. When we give up on wanting to be this strong, white piece of paper and allow the smoke to continue to do what it will to us, we find it progresses into something sharper. The smoke gets so use to our average reaction of just shaping it into something beautiful and positive, that it retaliates and starts hitting us where we hurt. Once the first flicker of that flame touches the smooth paper, the door to allowing the growth to spread has been opened. A lot of papers let this flame continue to bite at them, without wanting to fight, without wanting to stop the spreading of this luminous orange glow. And then eventually, for those poor white, innocent pieces of paper there is nothing left of them, they are consumed. There is nothing left to fight for and no chance left to change them into what they were originally made for.
For other pieces of paper there comes a moment, when that one biting flicker of a flame reaches up to lick that tainted edge, when all of a sudden the paper shudders and moves. The door that would have been opened has now not had the chance, but has been firmly sealed shut. The smoke that has covered this piece of paper in so many designs has hardened the paper in such a way that it will no longer allow the flames to come near and open up the hurt in which it so desperately wants. This piece of tainted paper has a fighting chance to still be used for the purpose it was created.
Which paper are you?
Slowly the centre of this sheet starts to turn a light shade of grey, which then develops into a yellow tinge. Strange, how this one plain white sheet didn’t even need something tangible to taint it. As we continue to stare at the designs this taintedness takes, our mind wonders in awe and we begin to notice the centre turning a charcoal black. The flame which creeps up and licks the paper as a hungry demon is unstoppable, yet so beautiful that when it starts to engulf the centre of the paper I notice my undivided attention is no longer for the paper, but now, for the flames.
It feels like that in life, in this moment. We are born into this world a white piece of paper and though we might appear to be clean and innocent at the start, through the progression of our lives we slowly become tainted. We start to receive the smoke that everyone hands to us and we as the paper shape that smoke, to create a design on us that we think best describes who we are and what we represent.
But like each piece of individual paper, we can only handle so much smoke. When we give up on wanting to be this strong, white piece of paper and allow the smoke to continue to do what it will to us, we find it progresses into something sharper. The smoke gets so use to our average reaction of just shaping it into something beautiful and positive, that it retaliates and starts hitting us where we hurt. Once the first flicker of that flame touches the smooth paper, the door to allowing the growth to spread has been opened. A lot of papers let this flame continue to bite at them, without wanting to fight, without wanting to stop the spreading of this luminous orange glow. And then eventually, for those poor white, innocent pieces of paper there is nothing left of them, they are consumed. There is nothing left to fight for and no chance left to change them into what they were originally made for.
For other pieces of paper there comes a moment, when that one biting flicker of a flame reaches up to lick that tainted edge, when all of a sudden the paper shudders and moves. The door that would have been opened has now not had the chance, but has been firmly sealed shut. The smoke that has covered this piece of paper in so many designs has hardened the paper in such a way that it will no longer allow the flames to come near and open up the hurt in which it so desperately wants. This piece of tainted paper has a fighting chance to still be used for the purpose it was created.
Which paper are you?
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