I’ve decided I like pineapples. No, I really do! I like the way they taste. Sweet. (Get your mind out of the gutter perves.) I like the way they look, prickly on the outside, with a crown on top! I love the colors; yellows, oranges, and greens…
I buy pineapples, I eat pineapples, I decorate with pineapples. I love pineapples!
A pineapple, according to my husband, is me. I wear a crown. (If he is King of his Castle, I am his Queen!) I am prickly on the outside but sweet on the inside (once the core has been removed). The darn core has been somewhat of a buggar to deal with as of late.
I see my core as holding all my preconceived notions. All ‘etcetera’ interests, and ideas, everything stored for examination at a later date. All to be processed as true or false, some preconceived notions of illness behaviors, some judgments… it’s all there, in this core.
The meat of the pineapple, the sweetness, that’s me. That is me and how I try to see the world! Without the tough exterior, I wouldn’t last very long… and anyone could crush me, eat me up! No, I have a hard shell, protecting my sweetness. The shell must be removed to get to this part, the sweet part.
My crown stands tall and green. It is lovely, strong and can topple over and still maintain its proper place on top of my pineapple.
But alas, the core had to be removed. For all its protection, too many ideas confuse the pineapple, and the core will end up eating away the best parts of the pineapple. Turning the sweet to sour. The ill-fated preconceived notions turn random false facts into truths. No, No. This, we can not allow.