Constraints
Taking a few days for a planned family visit to St. Joseph Michigan. We rent a large house a short walk from Lake Michigan. The adults of our extended family have the luxury of conversation about current events, challenges in the work-life, and about the opportunities presented by raising young children.
One of the delights of being here, is the proximity of the woods, the tall, old growth trees, and the cry of the blue jays constantly heard throughout the day. Also there is the woodchuck that lives at the edge of the ample back yard that we may observe at a distance. The animal is astute enough to not allow any of the tall bipedal mammals living in the lake house to approach close. All of this is a palpable reminder that I am “of nature” to live and to die by it’s stricture. Nature is our source: nourishment, materials for shelter, fibers and fabric for clothing, and even the rock upon which I stand, called “earth.” Nature presents a narrowing, a constraint to our focus.
This is to kept in mind in the context of climate change and global warming. Also should we not return-to-nature in light of the crisis in political leadership of which we are keenly aware on a day to day basis?
What could return-to-nature mean? From the very beginnings of human civilization nature has been our mother, once again owning our dependency, claiming our responsibility of mindful care for nature is a direct expedient for responding to the resurgence of Trumpist Fascism, and the incipient immigration triggered by weather events.
Both acceptance of what we cannot change, and ferocious resistance to the human menace is imperative.
The French Hydrangea image is magnificent. Also, a sculpted cupid contemplates a song bird.
2 thoughts on “Constraints”
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
-Wendell Berry-
Exquisite poem for these times.