Tuesday, February 28, 2017

We are but flies

Too old to rush to judgement

Their quiet stillness speaks of unimaginable wisdom.

When you walk among them you are walking on them and in them and below them, your energy grounding in their elderly wisdom.

Open your palm to them and share a piece of peace.

Let their stillness cool your internal waters.

You are safe here with these giants, for you will only find them where you also find life and water.

Take time to learn how to meet your own needs.

What you learn from them is a place you can go again if you are still enough.

The life below you has the suppleness of thousands of years of work, gently aerated like an ancient sponge.

With each step you squeeze air out and compact away a decade of work, yet it still feels open and airy on the most trodden paths, almost drumming with each step.

Imagine what lush powdery ground must lay beyond your vision.

The birds must sink into it like quicksand.

It begins with a  fountain of atoms being sucked up a long straw by the original maglev.

It's fed through a web of fungus permeating the tree's feet.

The tree pays them off with sugar taken from the sky and dropped to the floor like sediment in a glass of water.

To cool off the trees sweat out Hs and Os and when the leaf is no longer of benefit they litter it to the ground to feed back into their fungal web and maglev cycle.

We could learn so much from their simple loop.


They were kidnapped from their homes in the name of religion and brought against their wills to a hot foreign desert.

They were living a peaceful life in the forest, relaxing all day by the riverside. Their home was a perfect fit for them and gave them everything they needed. It seemed like a thousand years could pass by without any illness in their family.

They loved to drink. They are a large race, but it's still hard to believe how they can drink.

In this new land the desert heat made them perspire heavily. But when they got thirsty and reached out to find more water, they found their feet bound in cement shoes. What's more, in their home they used to have neighbors with whom they traded sugar for drinks and food, but this new land was sterile and dead and they had no such friends.

Finally, when the sun and heat had burned them into ugliness, their religious owners called a doctor. But it was too late. They should have never been brought to the desert.

Before they were even dead the next generation had been taken from their homes and brought to the chapel as replacements.

The doctor tried to convince the minister that this giant race should be left in their homes to thrive. He explained that they aren't made for the desert, particularly if they have no friends to share with and their feet are in cement boxes.

But the minister was blinded by religion. He said it was those trees who gave a famous architect his inspiration for their chapel and it was those giants that he was going to have for his collection.

The doctor left and the staff prepared the graves for the young trees and hastily planted them as replacements for their elders.