The Lesson of Sunflowers

Photo by chris liu on Unsplash

I remember, years ago, sitting with my aunt in her new apartment in the swanky part of Johannesburg. She’d been doing some new thing that sounded like part witchcraft, part psychology — neuro-linguistic programming, for those interested in looking it up, which Google informs me is: ‘is a pseudoscientific approach to communication, personal development, and psychotherapy’ — and how she wanted to practice some of the things she’d learned on me.

Well, I remember thinking, it can’t hurt, can it?

So, I indulged her. We talked a lot about my perceptions of myself, of how I felt that others perceived me, and over the course of the conversation we got round to discussing aspirational symbols. I chose the sunflower.

Now this is rather interesting, in retrospect, because of all the associated symbolism — all of them positive — but I remember one thing that stuck out most was learning that sunflowers turn their face to the light.

I dug a little deeper.

I learned that many sunflowers stand in full bloom for months on end during the hottest days of summer. They’re useful, too, producing edible seeds with loads of health benefits. Can create a yellow dye.

Amazing, really.

The reason why I’m talking about this is… well, lately I’ve reflected a lot on this conversation, particularly in the face of a lot of recent uncertainties. This course I’m on, for instance, while grounded in practicalities, requires that I step outside my comfort-zone and be brave and trust in myself and my own latent skills and talents. I’d love to know why believing in myself, of all things, is such a struggle. My head, at least, knows that I have the skills and the ability to pick up and use what I’m being taught, but the fact is that I will head into a competitive market — and at a disadvantage in some ways, starting later — and need to dig in and be stubborn. Grit, determination. These are the things, ultimately, that determine whether we win or lose. Pass or fail.

Trying to dig deep, to remember that there was a time when I believed — and could — do anything, is difficult. Difficult but not impossible.

I need to remember the lesson of the sunflower: that, no matter what, I need to keep my face turned toward the light.