Quote Annie Dillard:
“It is spring, I plan to try to control myself this year, to watch the progress of the season in calm and orderly fashion. In spring I am prone to wretched excess.”
“There were times I could not afford to sacrifice the present moment to any work, whether of head or hands. I love a broad margin to my life. Sometimes, in a summer morning, having taken my accustomed bath, I sat in my sunny doorstep from sunrise to noon, rapt in revelry, amidst the pines and hickories and sumach’s, in undisturbed solitude and stillness, while the birds sang round or flittered noiseless through the house, until by the sun falling in my west window, or the noise of some traveler’s wagon on the distant highway, I was reminded of the lapse of time. I grew in those seasons like corn in the night, and they were far better than any work of the hands would have been.”
As I sat here this morning checking to see; if there was any news that happened since I checked it last evening, looking to see if anyone had emailed me, I also sat here wondering if I had even one good thought to record on empty space. I came up with this reoccurring thought of how I must stay focused upon the fragile, fleeting gift of this moment. I have been trying to slow down, for springtime is upon me, the tulips are only here a few days of the year and so, I have been out trying to record their magnificent beauty with my limited camera, my limited ability. I have been so caught up in trying to enjoy the moments that I am losing sight of some important reality. Yes Time is passing, yes the beautiful tulips I love so, will pass on until next year, the azallias are right on their heels, they too will only flower for a week of full glory and they will pass on, the moments of their brief beauty will remain neatly tucked here in my soul, I get the moment of this one breath, then it dies into the next. The birds sing out loud and their voices I hear for the moment, will bleed into the next. The passage of nature is our planets time table, I guess that is as good as it gets.
Thoreau spent endless hours sitting and observing nature; he stated it was “far better than any work of the hands”; I agree. I not only agree, I succumb to that philosophy; living the good life. My morning and afternoon walks are uneventful, and yet they are part of my slow growth. I breath in fresh air, I view the landscape and what ever is blooming I relish in that moment. I must move beyond my mourning the death of the azaleas, daffodil, the tulip, the short season of the cherry blossom or dogwood, this is the life of Time. Why should I begrudge their passing, certainly that was not their purpose here. For to have their beauty with us if only momentarily, it leaves me feeling their magic all year.
I watch my skin as it changes, more each season, I fight fights with old gravity with each passing year. I die into tomorrow. I recall past loves, I remember past deeds that should not have occurred, the Y’s in the road, the choices that could have been better. The moments that I escaped into futile morbid reflections, and refused to see what had been freely given to me. I do agree that Thoreau and Annie both had it right, slow down, the slow crawl into the next moment. Breathing and feeling the new moment and sparks of gentleness that only a fresh breeze can give. Those are gifts, that is freedom.
I could continue with a little more of my rants toward mankind, the fallacy of more, that we here in USA have been sold, but today…..I sit….doing nothing…..growing like that “corn in the night” into the next moment.