Dandelion: Weed or Delicacy?
That Depends on Your Perspective!
Did you know the word for dandelion in French is pissenlit? I didn’t know that either, not until I asked my friend, Jean Jacques, “How do you say Dandelion in French?” We were picnicking by a lake, surrounded by dandelions.
“We’ve got a lot of pissenlits in the US.” I remarked. “They are a nuisance. Such a weed.”
“Oh no, dandelions are not a weed.” He responded.“When I was little, we used to eat the leaves of dandelions in a tasty salad.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. But you don’t want to eat the roots. They are poisonous.”
I reflected, a little bit surprised. “Hmm. Okay.” Dandelions do have a redeeming quality to some.
Jean-Jacques had schooled me on this plant I thought was good for nothing. It challenged an idea I’d held. I learned something new, and my perspective changed. The kid in me loves this sort of reality shift.
The following week we were on a hike, and we stopped for a break. We stretched out on our backs, the sun on our faces, the brilliant blue sky overhead. In the distance stood a mountain interspersed with grey rocks. As I adjusted my gaze from the sky to the mountain, I instantly saw an image of a woman with long dark hair on one of the larger rocks. A heart framed her face. It was so distinct I had to show it to Jean-Jacques.
I pointed to the rock and asked, “What do you see on that rock up there?”
He looked to where my finger was aimed and squinted to see what I saw. “Where? I don’t see anything.”
“Up there. See it?”
We went back and forth like this for a minute or so. Jean-Jacques couldn’t see the face. Then I decided to take a picture of it, slightly annoyed that he could not see what was so clear to me?
When I showed him the picture he said, with amazement, “Oh yeah, I see it.”
“What do you see?” I asked again.
“It’s a woman.”
“What else do you see?”
He looked at the picture again, paused, and then said. “Oh, wow, she’s inside a heart.”
Then he glanced up to the actual rock and said, “That’s remarkable.”
A few minutes later, I sat up, my back achy from the painful position I had been lying. Jean-Jacques, who had been stretched out on a rock, was uncomfortable too. So I offered the rockless though hard spot of earth I’d been occupying to him.
After we traded place, I looked up at that rock with the woman’s face again. But from my new angle, it was much less clear. And I could understand, now, why he had struggled to see it.
Jean-Jacques, who was also looking at the image, said, “I can really see that image clearly from this position.”
Here was yet another shift in perspective. This time it had to do with a physical change in position, but the result was the same: A more profound understanding that how I see the world is a unique confluence of my life experiences. My upbringing, the skills I have gained, my position in the world, the color of my skin, where I was raised, among other things, all shape how I interpret the world. It also reminded me that if I’m open to hearing someone else out or moving a foot away or across the globe, my understanding will change and broaden, and help make me a wiser, more tolerant person.
Dandelion: weed or delicacy? That depends on your perspective.
