Hey folks-
The following came to me as I was in the woods today in the rain looking
for morels and looking at the redbuds and dogwoods. I am not exactly sure
how it relates to the ECOPATH list, but it does relate to my path through
life's ecosystem. I think many of you might relate to the feeling, if
nothing else. I suppose you could change it from a reflection on love to a
reflection on the struggle we face to find our distinctive paths. But I do
not want to start picking it apart, yet :-); I will leave that for you to
do for now. I would like to take at least a couple of minutes to enjoy it
as a piece of flowery prosy and a small meditation. Have at it.
The ephemeral beauty of the flowering of trees and shrubs reminds me of
the coolness to the shade we take from these plants' leaves the rest of the
summer. And I realize that many of these leaves will brighten autumn like
flowers and then fall to enrich the soil and feed the trees leaving the
bare skeleton of the trees' architecture. And I wonder what the lessons are
to this cycle and renewal.
The early stages of love blooming, overpowering us with the sensual
pleasures of scent and color, but oh so brief before the petals and bracts
fall and are lost in the green of leaves. And many of these plants swell
with the fruit of hope for its eventual return. The diaphanous canopy of
young leaves providing the transition of dappled shade of love's
metamorphosis into the cool comfort of being or standing in love instead of
the heady falling in love. We can lounge in this comfort knowing that
summer will pass and we will again be greeted by the bright colors, but in
autumn. Just before another senescence. The chill in the air, the
desperation of the animals and the plants to prepare (except for a few
who/which live on, full tilt, until they are cut down). The return to
winter, to ourselves, and the architecture that underlies our love, our
desire, our realization that we are singular, alone, but standing in a
community of others who are closer, yet further away, than we think. Our
buds tucked away along our limbs and in our hearts. Waiting for the return
of spring.
Namaste',
Guy Clark
