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Saturday, February 9, 2019

The Philosophy of Trees

This next writing is from Friday, February 1st, and was the writing group assignment for this month. The topic was simply ‘trees’. Each of us wrote very different pieces about trees. From fantasy to real life, we were, as always creatively different. From laughter to poignancy we read and listened to each other with interest. Always interested in the philosophical episodes of Star Trek and watching the violent destruction of trees in the movie Lord of the Rings, I mused about the Philosophy of Trees in my short essay below.

The Philosophy of Trees

One may think that trees are not sentient beings that can even formulate something as grand as a philosophy. And maybe they are not. After all, they have no language of their own that humanity can hear. Like a musical instrument they do translate the music of the environment. Birds of all sizes nest leafy or needled branches. Squirrels scramble up gnarled or smooth trunks, race in and out of branches, raising their young in cosy hollows. Bugs and insects range all along the surfaces of trunks and branches, homes found especially in fallen tree trunks. From the still living roots, new shoots spring up beginning the life of a new tree. In a deep forest where humanity’s noise cannot be heard, the orchestra of forest life plays without stop, only the players varying as they go about their life. The trees of our forests have given us our homes whether we are grateful or not to them for their lives. They have provided fuel for the earliest fires in our existence. When the trees of the forest, or of our city streets breath in and out, they breathe out oxygen and absorb the carbon dioxide that the rest of the world exhales. Make no mistake, trees are not benign martyrs that only give. They will strike back, or die, when they are taken for granted. Roots will wrap themselves around underground wires and sewers. Trees will grow up through cement blocks and pull eaves-troughs from homes. Trees will survive from their seed and from their roots. When I reflect on all of these things, I believe that the philosophy of trees, where trees are sentient or not, is service and survival. Service to all of life from the tiniest insect to the grandest mansion, to inventors and makers of paper and the shade we love on a hot summers day. Survival to continue the cycle of life that we all enjoy. The greatest service just may be that trees make us smile, the loss of their beauty and grace felt when they reach the end of their life span.

“To be without trees would, in the most literal way, to be without our roots.”
~ Richard Mabey, Beechcombings: The Narratives of Trees

Friday, February 8, 2019

Scrambled

Eager sincerity outlasts a lot of things. Things I can’t think of right now. All I can think about is that I set myself up for this. Deciding on 'Eager sincerity...' for a stem…the words just popped into my brain! Seemed like good idea at the time, but now? Not so much. So I apologize for this most inept musing. It is not in service of anything but writing a blog post. I’m writing this on Wednesday evening in preparation for two nursing shifts. You are reading it on Friday as I am preparing for a long work shift or while I am busily doing what nurses do at work. Silly thing, but that’s all I’ve got tonight!

“Children have one kind of silliness, as you know, 
and grown-ups have anther kind.”
~ C.S.Lewis

Thursday, February 7, 2019

In the Playground

Contrasting balance
in a topsy turvy world
shares career with home-life
both of them life and living,
income teetering outflow
play tottering schedules
each one serving the other
until we fall into bed at night
to start again the next day.



“The world is a stage. Life is an act…Just a balancing act.”
~ Tapan Ghosh, Faceless The Only Way Out

Wednesday, February 6, 2019

Wiggle and Wave



Intuitive dance steps may fade as decades flow on, yet the toddler wiggle and wave
to music of much earlier decades remains waiting to be 
energized with abandon.

The desire to waltz gracefully like Ginger Rogers 
to double-tap, tap and spin like Eleanor Powell,
to shake and rattle maracas to rhythmic calypso beat
to sway into soft jazz in a darkened dance hall
all springs to life when the music begins
a service to the joy of my soul.

Intuitive dance steps into my home to
wiggle and wave like a songbird in the shower.
Slippered feet slide carefully on tile or carpet
spinning in slow circles in music’s time
with eyes closed, a smile on my face and music in my heart

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane.”
~ attributed to Friedrich Nietzsche



Tuesday, February 5, 2019

Touched




Velvety touch, firm grip, clear words ~

Respectful welcome of touch and tone
to meet the spiked edges of fear,
baffle wild splashes of uncertainty,
settle the dust of chaos ~

Honest service to those who still suffer.









“ A firm, hearty handshake gives a good first impression, 
and you’ll never be forgiven is you don’t live up to it.”
~ P. J. O’Rourke, political satirist and journalist

Monday, February 4, 2019

Tea Service



Reliable protection from the elements 
 ~ not always a shiny yellow slicker. 
Hearts bruise,
feelings get frayed and torn. 
souls disappear in the debris of the real world without scarlet drops or purple stains. 
Numbness hides the damage.

Elements of our lives 
 ~ emotional storms and turbulence
need buffers and wraps
to seek protection and shelter.
Warm service from others delivered
in a listening ear, a cup of tea or bowl of soup
offers the reliability of friendship for the long road to recovery.

“When friendships are real, they are not glass threads 
or frost work, but the solidest things we can know.”
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First Series

Sunday, February 3, 2019

Back Light


Everlasting satisfaction ~
a glow that only dims
never extinguished

Everlasting satisfaction ~
needs no words of gratitude
merely calm where there has been chaos.

Everlasting satisfaction
grows from genuine service ~
giving without expectation of return.





“Only memories have a future.”
~ Ljupka Cvetanova,  The New Land