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It seems that Mr. Aristotle, who lived between 383 and 322 BC, argued that plants—and, in fact, everything related to the plant world, including the soil—were closer to the inorganic world than to the world of living beings.

Before any chemists come questioning me about this, let’s clarify: for Aristotle, the inorganic world was not the world of inorganic compounds.

Side note: for those who might not know, in chemistry, inorganic compounds are all substances that do not contain carbon. So, if Aristotle had been a chemist, he would have certainly understood that plants didn’t belong in this category, given that carbon is a fundamental part of them in many different ways!

For Aristotle, the inorganic world was simply everything that does not move—meaning, everything incapable of changing its location with body movements.

As a consequence, everything that doesn’t move also lacks a soul. (And just to be clear, for him, “soul” didn’t have the spiritual meaning we usually give it, it simply meant without movements)

This idea became so ingrained in our society that we started associating plants with “things”—comparing them more to a block of styrofoam than to the world of living beings

And yet, Aristotle also believed that ideas arise from observing objects!

Can you see the contradiction?!

My conclusion? This man clearly had vision problems—or a severely limited sense of observation. Or maybe, he simply never spent any time around plants or trees because if he had, he would have certainly noticed that plants and trees do move—constantly. (And no, I’m not talking about the wind.)

Another argument of his was that “the fundamental problem is the problem of being, not the problem of life.” To put it more gently, he believed that the problem lies with people, not with life itself.

And with that, he unintentionally gives us the answer we were already suspecting! Without realizing it, Aristotle admitted he was completely wrong about plants—and even told us why: if the problem is with the observer, then the mistake is not in life itself (which, in this case, includes plants), but in the one perceiving it.

After all, plants and trees were just living their lives as usual—until they were judged in broad daylight.

So now, my question is: how is it possible that, even after exposing the contradictions in this man’s reasoning and proving the opposite time and time again throughout history—2,400 years later, we still believe in this?

For centuries, we have demonstrated the intelligence of plants over and over (even Charles and Francis Darwin defended this idea and gathered evidence for it), and yet, it seems we still don’t want to accept it.

Because, really—how can a being that doesn’t move horizontally be intelligent?

If it were intelligent, wouldn’t it run away at the approach of potential danger?

How could something smart allow itself to be “robbed” and have parts of its body cut off without putting up a visible fight?

Well, my friends, the answer is simple: once again, the problem lies in us—more precisely, in the meaning we attribute to the word “intelligence.”

But if our definition of intelligence were updated to align with these points, we wouldn’t even make the list—and that is simply unacceptable!

On the other hand, it raises some legitimate insecurities about how we live: How do we protect ourselves if we don’t run away? How do we stay safe if we don’t control as much as possible? Is it even safe to live without fear? How do we navigate this world without all these things we’ve invented?

As we well know, what protects us are not the walls or fortresses we build. After all, they don’t protect us from each other—or from ourselves.

What truly protects us is how we live.

It’s not our limiting beliefs, studies, news reports, political and economic systems, or concrete, steel, and cement buildings that shield us from being alive. Life happens regardless.

By now, we have more than enough scientific, philosophical, and personal evidences to show that life itself is not the problem—on the contrary, it is incredibly intelligent and knows exactly how to function.

So it makes less and less sense for us to interfere with it as if we were outside observers rather than beings who are an integral part of it.

Aristotle died over two thousand years ago, but his ideas are still very much alive within many of us.

And it’s time to let go of what no longer serve us, so we can finally, LIVE.

Afterall, life is not meant to be merely observed. It is meant to be lived—with balance, respect, and sustainability.