From seed it is born
A sweet fruit, by any name
Unless by a knife
Does a fruit know it is a fruit?
In the garden's embrace, the Pumpkin, like its cousins the tomato and cucumber, is awakened to its essence. Born of a seed, it basks in the sun's caress, its skin painted with the vibrant hues of life, yet its true treasure lies within.
Cradled inside are its progeny, the seeds of future generations. The pumpkin understands, as do all living beings, the inevitability of its end. But this end is not a mere cessation; it is its salvation. The seeds nestled within, destined to be scattered by the very creatures drawn to its allure.
It’s essence is not in being but in being sown.
But to many, it is only in death that we see them. We see them not for their vibrant orange hue, nor for the anatomy or origin that defines them.
They are either a sweet pie or a savory curry to us.
We see them only as we eat them.
As a vegetable.
It was an innocent conversation at a local cafe that made me think of the humble pumpkin. Not as a matter of fact but as a poignant reflection on how I will be perceived by my work and those that consume them.
You may see a Fijian, a Hawaiian, a Kiwi or an Australian.
You may see a Software Engineer, a Network Engineer or an Entrepreneur.
You may see Depression, Anxiety or Humor and Candor.
Or maybe I make for a good vegetable.