Eating Flowers

Were flowers ever a food-group for you? Ever a source of physical, gastrointestinal nourishment? A carbon-source?

Did it even occur to you, when you were small, that eating a flower was even something you’d consider?

I wonder now how many things in my white, suburban, christian (well, catholic, at least) upbringing were simply off-limits to the mindset. I’m not talking about questioning and being convinced. I’m not even talking about having questions shushed before you can get to the question-mark. I’m talking about normalcy. And Normalcy. And being guided into limits you didn’t even know were there. Limits on the world indistinguishable from the world itself.

Who eats a flower? Well, there was the idea of eating the flowers from zucchini plants (only the male flowers) when I was a kid, but those were drowned in pancake batter and fried to hell. And they were an astonishment. Definitely Not Normal.

What else about the world do we just not sense because we’ve been trained that way? What senses—or sensibilities—do we lack that prevent us from seeing beyond red or purple, beyond taste and smell?

Why the discouragement to go where others are afraid to?

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