Lately I have pondering the worthiness of all things Tiny. After all, the world has no shortage of Big Things. If you go to the airport and sit around for a while (and what else is there to do at an airport I ask you; apart from eating your fill of Big donuts that come in Big boxes) you’re bound to spot some mighty big planes. Those planes are big. It’s a wonder they ever get off the ground.
Other examples of Big Things: Ayers Rock; most professional basketball players; semi-trailers; Western Australia; any type of drink purchased in the US of A (they are a thirsty people, it would seem); and Bunnings.
I would like to sing the praises of the Tiny right now (in a soft, barely audible, tiny voice). For example:
· those little red spiders that like to crawl across the page when you reading and barely fit into the circumference of a full stop (the Tiny-lovers amongst us will agree that shutting your page on the tiny spider is seriously poor form);
· the goods with which you furnish your doll’s house (I recently discovered a doll’s house for a doll’s house – now that’s what you call Tiny);
· babies’ toes, baby socks, baby singlets, babies’ ears and all things baby (apart from baby elephants, perhaps);
· Lego people; and
· the middle toe of my partner’s right foot (named ‘Premature Toe’ and which, every time I see it, I want to wrap in a little shawl and tuck into a Tiny bed. She finds it all a tiny bit disturbing).
Why would I sing the praises of the Tiny? Why should I? Am I a (tiny) bit mad? Perhaps, but seriously, what would we have to melt our hearts if not for the tiny? How empty would our lives be without the bonding that occurs when two women spot a pair of pink sequined baby Converse shoes? These are the touching, tiny moments that define us.
Speaking of mother – she is also tiny (4 foot nothing, to be exact).
Let us sing the praises of such tiny people:
· they can sleep comfortably on couches;
· they have tiny hands that can make tiny things much more easily than those who have Big hands with Big sausage fingers; and
· they can crawl into small spaces that others cannot (which comes in handy when there is an earthquake and the building you’re in falls down on top of you and leaves only the tiniest of spaces to survive within).
I don’t believe my mother has ever been in the latter situation but if she was, the fact that she is 4 foot tall – and has the proportions of an elf – would no doubt be highly beneficial. She is also the only person I know who likes sleeping on couches. She thinks couches are seriously luxurious. And if that’s not a tiny bit sweet, I don’t know what is.
Tiny things remind us that life doesn’t always have to be big. They remind us that quantity does not equal quality. That what we overlook is often just as, if not more beautiful than the Big things that stare us in the face and force us to admire them.
Why can’t those big things just tone it down? Why can’t they just go and hang out together in Big Land for a while and let us get on with the business of admiring the Tiny?
Let us call on our Governments to put an immediate stop on all Big Projects and focus on the Tiny. Instead of another Big Banana, the people of Australia want a Tiny Cherry. They want a Tiny Cherry made of stone, spray painted red, placed atop of a tiny plinth and accompanied by a tiny sign that praises the beauty of all things Tiny.
Tiny lovers from across the world would come to admire our Tiny Cherry and have their photos taken beside it. Tiny little people (I think they’re called children) could sell tiny souvenirs that would boost our economy in the most tiniest of ways.
So put your glasses on and search around your chair for something Tiny. Take a moment to admire said Tiny thing, sing a tiny song and take a tiny little bow.