Leaves Don't Exist

In Humanities today I was told that needles don't exist. Only each individual needle, because they are all different. Categories don't exist (lions, books, chairs, etc), only individuals (each book, chair, and lion). Every individual thing is different from every other thing, but we sort them into groups so we don't go insane trying to see each indivudal, say, blade of grass. I was thinking about this idea through the morning (I've been doing that after each class, actually) and was trying to understand it, but kept running into problems.

Later in the afternoon, I ended up with some extra free time. My dorm was far away, and I ended up laying on my back under a tree in front of the Administration Building for a good fifteen minutes just looking at it. I am now a firm believer in the statement: Leaves don't exist. Each leaf is different. At first, it was hard to see, but there were differences between each and every leaf that I looked at on that tree. I felt very must like a poet, I'll admit. I could have stayed there a lot longer, but eventually I had to go to class.

I got up and started walking to Memorial Hall, only to stop in my tracks. There was a squirrel eating a pinecone, or whatever squirrels eat, on a branch on another tree just in front of me. I walked right up to the tree, expecting it to run away. It definitely saw me, but it didn't leave, just went back to its meal. I can't recall ever looking at an individual squirrel closely before. Its eyes were black and beady, its tail was beautiful, and it could chew really fast. I felt for a moment like Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in the squirrel room when she tries to grab a squirrel. I soon realized, however, that I didn't really want to own it, I just wanted to watch it. It was so engrossed in its pinecone (or whatever) and I didn't want to leave. It wasn't that I didn't want to go choir, because I love to sing, but it seemed so right to just stay outside and follow the squirrel around and find differences in leaves......

I always knew I was a hopeless romantic when it comes to love, but I am agreeing with everything else the Romantics say as well. I felt just like William Wilberforce in a really great movie, Amazing Grace, when he's in a conversation with his butler. He says, "I know there are a thousand things I have to do today, but I'd rather sit in the grass, marveling at bloody spider's webs."

So my challenge to myself (and whoever wants to take it, I guess), is going to be: Don't put people in categories. Cheerleaders don't exist. Theatre kids don't exist. Druggies don't exist. There might be someone who is a cheerleader, but there are many things that set her apart from other cheerleaders. Same for any of the other imaginary categories. I want people to see me as more than a theatre geek, or a singer, or a bookworm, or an older sister, or any of the myriad of aspects that make me who I am. Not even my name is enough. I want people to see me as myself, so I'm going to try and see other people like that.

Anyway, I dare you to go realize for yourself that categories don't exist. It's true- I can't think of a single exception. :)