A single, solitary blade of grass was seeded into this rich, round ball of earth.
It was born with the innate desire of becoming tall fescue, but it was already off to a poor start.
There was no fanfare, no oohing and awing. In fact, there was no celebration at all.
It was given no name. This made the blade of grass feel as unwanted as crabgrass, as unwelcome as milk thistle.
If it had been named, it may have been called “Easily Influenced” because it was blown around and bent out of shape with every passing wind.
One day the blade of grass looked around and noticed it was smaller than most.
It was very slow to emerge. And it had not heard the voice of its guardian angel whispering, “Grow! Grow! Grow!”
So, it wished it were taller, just like other renowned tall fescue.
But no amount of stretching and reaching would accomplish it in that moment.
There came a time when the blade of grass wished it were a little wider as well, so that it would stand out amongst its peers.
It wished it had a more colorful personality.
It wished it were elsewhere.
It wished a lot of things.
The blade of grass thought to itself, that perhaps, it would be better to be carried away and become a transplant.
I’ve heard the wind whispering that life is greener on the other side of the meadow.
But then again, it didn’t want to be green any more either. It secretly wished to be Poa pratensis, better known as Kentucky bluegrass.
As this fanciful idea took hold, the blade of grass began to want nothing more.
Day and night it thought and wished — hoped and dreamed — about being blue.
It wanted to be more than what it was.
But if it had seen its potential, it would never have made any of these comparisons.
The Root Of The Problem
Without realizing it, the blade of grass had completely forgotten an important truth that it was born with.
In being more concerned with making an appearance on the face of the earth, it had forgotten its roots.
Even worse, in the desire to be seen as something important, it had completely neglected its roots.
Its roots hungered for personal care. They cried out for attention.
But as the blade of grass detached from its purpose, it failed to listen to its own inner voice.
It became weak. Very weak.
That’s just when the poison set in.
A root of bitterness had crept into the thought processes of the blade of grass.
It wished for what it could never be, and no amount of wishing would make it so.
It romanticized the notion of being carried away to a more exotic location even more.
But alas, no amount of dreaming and hoping helped it turn blue.
The more the blade of grass focused on what it couldn’t be — a self-fulfilling prophecy was made manifest.
There was no need for pest control. It’s insides had become toxic.
The root of bitterness began to grow on the inside of the blade of grass, until its complexion became more yellowed from jaundice and becoming jaded.
Afraid of never measuring up, it now became a sickly color.
It didn’t know what it had become. Certainly, a far cry from the blue grass it longed to be.
“Yuck. I feel terrible,” cried the blade of grass. “I wish someone would come along and bury me in the back forty.”
The Blade Of Grass Gets Help
There was no magic fertilizer to perk it up. There was, however, the Master Landscaper.
The astute landscaper noticed that the only place on the lush estates that didn’t do well was a patch of grass made sick by that one blade of grass.
“I won’t be putting you out to pasture any time soon,” declared the Master Landscaper, “You’ve got your WHOLE life ahead of you!”
The Master Landscaper cared deeply for the blade of grass and its neighbors that had become contaminated.
He soon exposed the root of bitterness, carefully removing its stranglehold on the lone blade of grass.
“Wow, I can breathe again!,” exclaimed the blade of grass.
His heart was chlorophylled with gladness, and his natural color returned almost immediately.
“What it the world got into me?” asked the blade of grass.
The Master Landscaper replied:“Some bad ideas had taken hold of you. In these parts, they’re more common than the common cold. When you’re weak like that, you’re much more susceptible.But you’re going to be okay now. I’ve
- removed the root of bitterness infecting your spirit.
- extracted a virus called psychic reality.
- rinsed you clean.
- given you some insecticide for all that bugs you 🙂
- and have given you an extra shot of courage to be yourself.
You’re now free to follow your true path.
It is a simple truth that our choices inform our purpose.
Imagine yourself as that blade of grass.
For the acronym buffs, my BUTLERism for the word GRASS is…
Get Real And Stay Strong
Water the Blade Of Grass Story with Your Conversation
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What lessons do you take away from this story?
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Thank you kindly!