Being a person who was brought up on British comedy, I’m likely to say words like, “bollocks”, “bugger”, and most importantly for this post, “pansy.”
The original context of the word as I know it is: “Don’t be a pansy.”
Don’t be a wuss. Don’t be a coward. Don’t be a little noodle-armed sissy-man. There are dozens of ways to say this, but for whatever reason, “pansy” was always my favorite pejorative for those who copped out of tough situations.
Until today.
As I was walking to a client presentation, I came across a single pansy growing out of a crack in the sidewalk. It was a perfect little flower; purple and white and beautiful, rising up from the concrete like an idealized little microcosm of nature triumphing over industry. He was strong and bold. He was the least “pansy” pansy I’ve ever seen.
I had one of those moments where everything I knew seemed wrong. Here was this dainty little flower, not giving a shit and kicking ass. He has almost no room to grow, but did that stop him? Nope. He had so few nutrients in that dirty sidewalk crack, but did that stop him from turning into a vividly colorful flower. Not at all. Did he get trampled on by all sorts of inconsiderate passers-by? No, he stood up tall.
He is a perfect example of something making the best of a shitty situation.
You think you’ve got it rough? That the whole world likes to kick you in your most tender and private parts, just when you had recovered from having those same parts kicked just recently? You think you’ve got it harder than anyone – nay anything – on this planet?
Next time you think like that, think of this pansy instead. Life dealt him a Jack-Two, off-suit. But he didn’t fold, no, he went all in. His little seed settled into the crevice that would become his world, and he embraced it for all its paven glory. He said, “eff you world, this is my life and I’m gonna grow and live and be so cool that random people will stop and take pictures of how awesome I am.”
And he did. See for yourself:
Purple pansy ponders prosperity.
Tagged: british comedy, flower, humor, inspiration, pansy, photography, sidewalk
Literature and Libation 
You’ve encouraged me to be a pansy.
Pansy on my friend, pansy on.
A beautiful find!
Oh, and, “Blackaaaaaaaaaaader! Blackaaaaaaaaaaaader!”
Thanks!
Oh, and:
Black Adder, Black Adder, he rides a pitch black steed
Black Adder, Black Adder, he’s very bad indeed
Black: his gloves of finest mole
Black: his codpiece made of metal
His horse is blacker than a hole
His pot is blacker than his kettle
Black Adder, Black Adder, with many an cunning plan
Black Adder, Black Adder, you horrid little man.
Mr. Creosote loves pansies.
The pansy is only wafer thin.
Any time I say the word pansy in my head, I hear it in John Cleese’s voice (as only John could yell it). I believe it comes from the sketch where he’s trying to teach people how to defend themselves against fresh fruit.
“Ooh, ooh, ooh; want to learn how to defend yourself against pointed sticks, do we? Getting all high and mighty, eh? Fresh fruit not good enough for you, eh? Well let me tell you something my lad! When you’re walking home tonight and some great homicidal maniac comes after YOU with a bunch of loganberries, don’t come cryin’ to me!”
They really are hardy flowers. I get a potful every early Spring, because they can take the bitter cold. They last allll spring, summer, and into late autumn, which is oodles tougher than most flowers. I have seen them living happily dusted in snow. They are truly one of the strongest flowers I have seen.