Pages Of Life

Love Less; Love More

Love Less; Love More

When I was a kid, I made a mini-garden in our backyard. I built up the soil to create a plot, making sure it was flat on top and curved on the sides.

I dug into the soil carefully, placed the seeds gently, and covered them with more soil. I planted flowers and imagined how they would soon bloom into beautiful, perfect creations. I visited my garden every day, letting the sun kiss the soil and watering it once a day. I shared stories of my day, telling the garden how excited I was to see it grow.

Days passed, and I saw a sprout. Overjoyed, I continued to let the sun touch it, watered it more, and told it even more stories, hoping it would grow stronger and taller. Everything that I had been doing to nurture my plant since day one, I did with double the effort.

Weeks passed, and it blossomed into a beautiful flower. It was the most stunning flower in our garden. My friends, visiting for the first time, were impressed by how much it had grown—how healthy and vibrant it looked. It had developed so well.

I felt proud and boasted about my plant. I had planted it; I had grown with it. I had been with it from the very beginning, and now it had flourished into something wonderful. My friends smiled and asked how I had managed it, and I simply told them, "I just showered my plant with lots of water. I showered it with lots of love and care." They were amazed and inspired by my dedication and my plant's beauty.

Months passed, and I continued to care for my plant. I gave it even more love and attention—more than what it needed or wanted. I gave it more sunlight, more water, and more of myself.

But today, my plant died. 

I am devastated. I feel like I wasn't enough, that I didn't do everything right, that I didn't do enough. But the truth is, I did too much. I gave too much.

My plant died because I gave it too much sun, too much water, too much love and care. I killed it because I gave it too much of myself.

And yes, this isn't about a flower.