(Written a few days ago, I really am not sure how true it may hold still. Today is grey and disgruntled.)
Set as we are, to the East in our valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides, the view we enjoy is incredible in any season, in all directions.
Today clouds hang low and wispy; the palette: deep blue and tranquil white.
We accuse humans of anthropomorphism, especially those with the occupation, curse, and liberation of Poet. But suppose the Earth does feel emotion? Suppose the animals feel just as deeply, or even deeper than us, the homo sapiens?
Wouldn't we feel more responsibility and kinship with our surroundings and quiet neighbors?
Our valley today feels tranquil, just a little sad, and slightly huddled. Waking up after a strange, strange winter, sleep sand spilling from crevasses slowly.
Suppose we don't superimpose our own emotions on nature. Instead, nature taught us how to feel;
The anger and jubilation, the absolute, raw power of thunder and wind and downpour. Sweet sadness and release in quiet, grey rain, pure and so beautiful. The awareness and hidden mysteries hidden and revealed by the moon in all of her incarnations, the silent encouragement of her consorts, so far away. The sun's crankiness, wisdom, and benevolence, it's faithful nurturing of the earth's green (and pink) things, sometimes far surpasses the rain's trustworthiness. The Buddha or Jesus voice and touch of snow and its muffled blanket, its quiet meditation and inner eye.
The parallels of the seasons and all of life; birth, flower, maturation, death, recycle.
Set as we are, to the East in our valley, surrounded by mountains on all sides, the view we enjoy is incredible in any season, in all directions.
Today clouds hang low and wispy; the palette: deep blue and tranquil white.
We accuse humans of anthropomorphism, especially those with the occupation, curse, and liberation of Poet. But suppose the Earth does feel emotion? Suppose the animals feel just as deeply, or even deeper than us, the homo sapiens?
Wouldn't we feel more responsibility and kinship with our surroundings and quiet neighbors?
Our valley today feels tranquil, just a little sad, and slightly huddled. Waking up after a strange, strange winter, sleep sand spilling from crevasses slowly.
Suppose we don't superimpose our own emotions on nature. Instead, nature taught us how to feel;
The anger and jubilation, the absolute, raw power of thunder and wind and downpour. Sweet sadness and release in quiet, grey rain, pure and so beautiful. The awareness and hidden mysteries hidden and revealed by the moon in all of her incarnations, the silent encouragement of her consorts, so far away. The sun's crankiness, wisdom, and benevolence, it's faithful nurturing of the earth's green (and pink) things, sometimes far surpasses the rain's trustworthiness. The Buddha or Jesus voice and touch of snow and its muffled blanket, its quiet meditation and inner eye.
The parallels of the seasons and all of life; birth, flower, maturation, death, recycle.
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