Rainbow Fish And The Big Blue Whale
Okay, let's talk about a story. A really famous one. You know the one. It's got a fish. A very special fish. This fish is called Rainbow Fish. And, as the name suggests, this fish is sparkly. Like, super sparkly. He's got these shiny scales. Every scale is a different color. He’s basically a disco ball in fish form. And everyone else? They’re just regular little fish. Not shiny at all.
So, Rainbow Fish is all proud. He’s got all these beautiful scales. He thinks he’s the best. The most important fish in the whole ocean. He doesn’t share his sparkle. Not one bit. The other fish want to be like him. They ask him for a scale. Just one. But Rainbow Fish says no. He’s too selfish. He likes his sparkle all to himself. This makes the other fish sad. They all swim away. Rainbow Fish is alone. Even with all his sparkle, he’s lonely.
Then, something happens. A wise old fish shows up. This fish is like, ancient. He’s probably seen it all. He tells Rainbow Fish he’s acting wrong. He needs to share. Sharing makes you happy, he says. So, Rainbow Fish thinks about it. He’s really lonely. So, he gives away one of his shiny scales. To one of the other fish. And guess what? The other fish is super happy. And Rainbow Fish? He feels good too. He gives away more scales. He becomes less sparkly. But he gains friends. Lots of friends. And everyone is happy. The end. Or is it?
Now, here’s my unpopular opinion. It’s a little controversial. Maybe even a bit shocking. But I’m going to say it anyway. I don’t think Rainbow Fish should have given away all his scales. Seriously. Think about it. He was special. He was unique. He was a dazzling, shimmering spectacle. He was like a walking, swimming art installation. And he just… gave it all away. For what? A bunch of plain little fish who probably just wanted to borrow his shine for a bit.
What if Rainbow Fish was just… being himself? What if his sparkle was his superpower? Like Superman’s flight, or Wonder Woman’s lasso. Should Superman give away his ability to fly because other people can’t? Should Wonder Woman hand over her lasso to anyone who asks? I don’t think so. Rainbow Fish was special. And being special isn't a crime. It’s something to be proud of.
And the other fish? They were a bit… entitled, weren’t they? “Oh, you’re so shiny. Can I have some?” It’s like going up to someone with a brand-new, top-of-the-line phone and saying, “That’s a cool phone. Can I have it?” It doesn’t quite work like that in real life. Maybe they should have learned to be happy with their own kind of beauty. Their own smooth, simple scales. They were perfectly good fish, too. Just… less glittery.
The story makes it seem like sharing is the only way to be happy. And yes, sharing is good. It’s important. But you shouldn’t have to sacrifice your entire identity to make others happy. Rainbow Fish ended up looking like all the other fish. He lost his uniqueness. Was that really a happy ending? Or was it just a story about conforming to the norm?
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What if, instead of giving away his scales, Rainbow Fish could have taught the other fish about beauty? Or about how to appreciate different kinds of beauty? Maybe he could have organized a "Sparkle Appreciation Day." Or a "Shine Sharing Workshop" where he demonstrated how to create beauty, not just give it away.
And let’s not forget the potential for misuse of those shiny scales. What if one of the plain fish took a shiny scale and used it to show off? Or tried to trade it for something valuable? It’s like giving a kid a diamond. They might not understand its worth, or how to take care of it. Those scales were Rainbow Fish's essence. His very being.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “But the story is about friendship! And kindness!” And yes, those are important themes. But there are other ways to be kind. Other ways to make friends. You don’t have to become a carbon copy of everyone else. You can be a rainbow. And the world needs rainbows, not just a sea of plain blue.
Imagine if, somewhere in that big blue ocean, there was another incredibly special creature. Perhaps a magnificent Big Blue Whale. Now, the Big Blue Whale is, well, big. And blue. Very, very blue. But not sparkly. Not in the same way Rainbow Fish is. The Big Blue Whale swims serenely. He’s majestic. He’s powerful. He’s a force of nature.
What if, instead of feeling jealous of Rainbow Fish's sparkle, the Big Blue Whale could have admired it? And what if Rainbow Fish, instead of feeling superior, could have marveled at the sheer scale and grace of the Big Blue Whale? They are different. They are both wonderful. They don’t need to be the same to appreciate each other. The Big Blue Whale doesn’t need a sparkly scale, and Rainbow Fish doesn’t need to be the size of a continent.
My point is, sometimes, being different is a good thing. It’s what makes you, you. And while sharing and friendship are noble pursuits, let’s not forget the value of individuality. Rainbow Fish was a star. He was a unique, shimmering wonder. And maybe, just maybe, he could have found happiness without dimming his own light. He could have been a sparkly beacon, inspiring others, not just becoming one of them. He could have been a sparkly friend, not just a friend who used to be sparkly.
So, the next time you read the story of Rainbow Fish, give a little wink to the sparkly scales he so readily gave away. And maybe, just maybe, consider the magnificent, non-sparkly magnificence of the Big Blue Whale. They both have their place. They both have their beauty. And sometimes, the most important thing you can do is just shine your own brilliant light.