Once upon a time there was a tree near a forest. This little tree, we'll call him Ernest because we don't want to make any decisions about proper pronouns for awhile, saw all the other trees in the forest and wanted to be as tall and mighty as they were. Ernest watched them grow bigger each year as successive rains gave them the nourishment they needed.
He was taken care of, to be sure. His owner put him in the windowsill so he could get sunlight and spritzed him with water periodically. Ernest would grow a bit and start to feel like he was on his way to majesty, but then his owner would prune him back and he would feel deflated at his lack of progress. He began to feel like he was a shadow of his fellow trees and that he was powerless to change that. Ernest was utterly dependent on his owner to provide the conditions necessary for his growth.
Ernest's owner, on the other hand, was pleased with his static look and carefully-trimmed growth. He had paid a lot of money for this particular plant and considered Bonsai his hobby. He liked to look at Ernest as a version in miniature of the towering pines outside. He didn't want those trees; he liked having his own that he had made with his own two hands.