Being and Not Existing
Tuesday, July 19th, 2005
“Dad, what are those?” I asked. He said that those were just plants. The plants were lined up by the sidewalk. They were aligned in the same manner that I and my classmates line up for the flag ceremony—in a distorted straight line. The series started and ended with the wall beside it as we walked. The green entities stand on firm soil and lean towards the left then the right depending on where the wind blows.
People passed by and hit them and didn’t care. I remembered when someone hit my hand and it hurt really badly. My father said that plants don’t get hurt because they can’t feel anything. But then he told me that they were alive.
Having reached 17 years of being and having learned more about plants and their having no pain cells, I still wonder about the life of plants. Granted that they had no soul, does it mean that they have no purpose? I walked from Palma Hall to College of Science Building, passing by a similar street I used to pass by with my father. Seeing the plants everyday, I wonder how it would feel to be a plant—disregarding the fact that they don’t actually feel anything.
They live and grow and die without leaving a mark of existence. As they live, no one cares. As they grow a leaf and lose a flower, no one notices. As they die, no one remembers. And if no one cared, no one noticed and no one remembered your being, did your existence matter at all? Or is it as though you never existed?
