There is bush with long, sharp, hard looking thorns just outside my office. The thorns stand out with an intimidating starkness that silently informs you that you are at risk of being injured if you get too close. But then once in a while, the bush produces some amazingly beautiful red flowers that have a sweet fragrance. On a sunny morning, and with numerous bees buzzing around, it creates a refreshing spectacle of color, smell and sound that more often than not will drag you into an involuntary daydream. Yesterday, I went to the plant and examined it in more details. And I realized that at close quarters, the thorns are not as terrible looking as they are from a distance. In fact, they appear a natural part of the bush – a harmless extension to the plant – just like the leaves and the flowers. And that reminded me of the brown cow that my family once owned.

The brown cow had been blind for as long as I could remember. When it walked, its muzzle would be thrust ahead and its front legs would step forward with great care to avoid making any mistakes. But in most cases, one of us would lead it by pulling a rope attached to its neck. The brown cow was the gentlest creature I knew. If you massaged the bottom part of its neck at the location where a cow’s Adam’s apple would be if it had one, it would stop all activity, lower its head and become very still. So still that you could hear food being digested in its many stomachs. However, many people would run away from the brown cow. Why? Because it had a formidable pair of horns unlike other cows that had been de-horned. While taking the brown cow to the grazing spot, the people we encountered would ask loudly if the cow “fights” while still at a safe distance. And despite telling them that the brown cow did not “fight”, they would walk around it in a wide circle – just in case.

But it is not just the thorny bush or the brown cow that look menacing and yet are harmless, people too. Like the thorns of a plant and the horns of a cow, people develop defense “fronts”. Have you ever talked to someone and found yourself wondering, “Why did I use to be so afraid of him?” This usually happens when you realized that the person who you imagined was fierce, or a snob, or a bully, or obnoxious, is actually easier to interact with than the people you considered to have a “normal” demeanor. A person you considered very quiet might actually turn out to be a chatterbox and one you considered a bore be the most interesting person you ever knew.

All these – the looks of fierceness, or aggression, or boredom, or ’stone face’, being loud – are our thorns and horns. For inside, everyone just wants to love and to be loved; even the person who says; “I am better off without anyone”, or “I am done with relationships” or even, “I don’t care!”

The thorny bush cannot retract its menacing thorns, and the brown cow lived all its life with its terrifying horns. You and I, we can try and tone down out thorns and horns and make ourselves more approachable.