Who were you two hundred years ago?
Who will you be two hundred years from now?
I eat my apple quietly enjoying the colours of the sky, the deepening evening silence
I toss the core to the ants that circle beneath the tree
After all they need to eat too
They circle it greedily, and begin to carve off chunks with their tiny tiny teeth
With fresh perspective
I return to the things that truly matter
Thinking, seeing, being
The sky is a watercolour painting,
I for this moment, am also part of the frame
One day I will fade away
But the sun will set on every single day hereafter
And it won’t mind at all that I’m no longer part of this landscape
There are plenty of others to take my place
But for this moment, we share this space
And I’m grateful to be in the picture
*Eve, Adam, apples and the garden of Eden, banishment, cast adrift, serpents, the stories of where we began, where we are going, and so many in between that we tell ourselves, things that have nothing to do with religion. The thoughts which never end but begin from the moment we open our eyes until we close them again and then haunt our dreams.
It’s why I love the natural spaces, cliffs, mountains, the ocean, old trees, the sky. They change and yet they lack the impermanence that we suffer from. Deep down we all have that uneasy sense of how tenuous our tenure here really is. A sun warmed rock on a cold day is a beautiful thing to lean into. Solid, real, lasting. The only thing which is unchanging is change itself – we cannot fight it, why not enjoy the parade while we’re part of it, and the rock will always be there when we need a place to breathe.