here's the story. There is a stone in front of my temple that says Foucault's on boo Coco G. Under the foundation of this stone, we had to put in a thick layer of asphalt in an unplanned, sudden repair. The year before daffodils grew, they're in the soil, and they bloomed beautifully. If I had remembered, I would have transplanted them elsewhere. But in a rush, we forgot about them, and their bulbs were buried under the thick asphalt Then in the springtime, as I was passing by one day, I noticed a little light green sprout had broken through from under that asphalt that even a strong blow from a hammer could hardly budge. The delicate green spout sprout grew each day, becoming longer and longer, and then sending out a cute little leaf. One week, two weeks, one month passed. Then from the stem, a flower emerged and beautifully bloomed in this in the spring breeze, it gently waved. Every day, I went to greet that Daffodil in deep reverence. Where did you get such great power from? Looking at the little flower? I couldn't help but cry. Where did you get such power? With it was so straightforward. The tips of its leaves peeping out as they first emerged from the asphalt sort of shy but not giving in to the weight of the heavy material above them. Not giving in to any obstacle. They gave their all and burst right up and stretched out. But there was no hint in them of haughtiness or self importance. They weren't saying I came up through this hard asphalt I broke through, look at me. No notion of I hate this hard asphalt and I sure would like to be some other place softer. No taint of superiority nor hint of inferiority just as it is this pretty little daffodils effort, its power, this force of the gentle sprouting of its green leaves from the bulb. This noble strength What is it just earnestly obediently receiving all that there is to receive just growing and not setting limits upon itself. We have to revere this one little Daffodil shining in the sunshine it is truly noble. Selfless.