I bought tulips the other day and I feel like I view the tulip in a slightly different way to Sylvia Plath. Her poems ‘Tulips’ is probably one of my favourites and she laments on how while recovering in a hospital room she is given red tulips which corrupt and make a room which could have been a place pure and one she could find peace in into one which she can only find turmoil in. And while there is a sense that in a room of white where the only colour is red is distressing. I feel it is important to point out that Sylvia Plath always liked to work in a room which was red and it ignited her energies, perhaps this links with it, in that she wanted to write but because of her circumstances she was unable to do so.
However I find the tulip to be quite a hopeful little flower. Perhaps in the way that they seem to bloom directly before they die. They seem to open up and be striving for something, I think it is a beautiful way for each of it’s petals to fall off individually.
I may just be rambling and am getting emotionally where there is nothing to get emotional about, though arguably it is important to remind yourself of nature, I just feel that the tulip doesn’t seem to give up until it has to. Until it dies. I guess taking a step back this almost relates to the innocence and experience thing which humans go through, that it takes the experience to be fully greatly of life.
I am sorry for the rambling, I was just sat here in my room looking at my tulips and felt like while I got them to brighten up this room and didn’t intend to think about that much, it just served as a nice reminder.