springtime meditation
The spring sun is out and is flooding my entire backyard, making everything very white, bright, and warm. My body is ill. This fact, combined with the warmth and light of the sun, makes my body feel heavy and grounded and slows down my mind to a standstill.
I’m looking at a red crate on the green grass that is filled with clothespins. The image of the crate upon the grass is projected unto my mind with surprising detail and clarity for being such a mundane sort of object. Yet it carries with it a statement that defies all interpretation. A humble crate on the grass: what then is all this hullabaloo of art and culture about?
My backyard is an enclosed garden. I cannot seem to see or think beyond it right now. It seems ironic that closed spaces make me feel more expansive. Maybe it’s because while I’m in them, so much is left to the imagination.
Springtime is a good time to plant a garden. It’s also a good time to sit and just watch it grow.
A few thoughts of the philosophical sort sprout in my mind. They are new fangled oaks set on alluring horizons, but amid this bright heat and sun, where is there any place for them?
