A folded paper flower, so intricate and beautiful. From something so plain, so simple, so worthless. But what is it worth?
What determines the value we place on a person, a location, a mere object? One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, but what is a treasure worth?
Worth a lie, a broken promise in exchange for an experience. What is it worth? A life, endangering existence for this one guilty pleasure. What is it worth? A love, a million hurts just to feel what we already know to be worthless.
But one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. To one, treasures could be material. Possessions so valuable, are they not? They cost money, society tells us money is valuable, so therefore they must be.
Or power. Power equals money. Money is valuable. Or so we’re told.
But no, one man’s treasure is also another man’s trash. To the man with the paper flower, money is just paper. Worthless, only valuable when it becomes something else, something beautiful.
Money is just paper. Worthless, without a reason to be used.
But a person, a person can never be worthless. We can ask, what is worth, but it will always come back to people. Why? Because that man with the paper flower, his treasure is beauty. His treasure is detail. His treasure is life.
To show, to live, to eventually die. There is no worth. Nothing is worthless, nothing is worthy. Nothing else is of any value but the here and now.
Value, we measure this subjectively. Is value that which is indestructible? Or is the decomposition process something of value in itself?
The only way to truly experience value and worth is to take the time to see who we really are.
Like the man and his paper flower. To live, to create, to eventually die. We are all plain, simple, worthless. But there is no worth. Only value.
So become a folded paper flower, intricate and beautiful.
Written when I was upset with a friend. Wondering what our friendship was worth.