Civilization

 

To be civil is to be thoughtful and

concerned not only with one's own

welfare but that of others for if others

suffer privation and without order and

security would view your better state

with envy what is to stop them from

committing uncivil violence against you

in their own greater interest of sharing

what you own and would not share?

The state of civilization owes much to

the construct of a deity for nothing

inspires respect and fear so much as

does the prospect of an all-powerful

entity displeased with one's behaviour

capable of striking a fatal blow at a mere 

glance.... As the interlocutor of the 

all-powerful reminds humble constituents

the faithful must adhere to the Almighty's

precepts of civilized behaviour; to be

meek and humble, give praise to their

creator and strive for peace among

their fellows. The compact fails when

humanity stumbles on the impediments

that their creator has endowed them

with and when their creator's design

failed to take into account its flaws

so that all are culpable, the creator and

the inadequately blueprinted-created.

 

 

Observation

 

When I was a child I became conscious

of the strange feeling that whatever I

did wherever I went someone was

carefully watching me. Not watching

over me but observing me. Who might

it be? God? There was no religious

observance in my family, but I did know

that I was different than others of my

coevals and learned at an early age to

'recognize' small silent symbols to

differentiate people. Was I someone's

experiment? I'd better be on my best

behaviour to pass muster in that scrutiny.

So everything I did, whatever I encountered

and responded to, wherever I happened to

be there I was living my life and there

was someone watching. Was I being

judged? Censored? Admired? As I 

grew older such childish concerns left

me and getting on with life I abandoned

that awareness that had me at times

pretending to be a boy, thinking that

would garner less interest. Now I'm

past mere maturity with an awareness

that perhaps I am being watched. And 

the reason for that feeling escapes me. God?

My neighbours? Some hidden unbidden

source that would prove should it ever

reveal itself that we live in parallel worlds?

 

 

Forest Arras

 

In the forest all is still but for a slight

breeze rustling desiccated foliage

still clinging to oaks and ironwood.

The interior of the forest always

dim under the thickness of its canopy

but this afternoon fog shrouds the

distance and mist rises from the

slender brook not yet frozen over

trickling at the bottom of the forest's

ravine. The winter rain has ceased

encrusting the acquired layers of snow

with its sparkling diamond micro drops

leaving the atmosphere suffused with

humidity. In this diffused light bronze

leaves still hanging on beech boughs

acquire an effervescent shade of bright

orange, luminous against the severe

darkness of the day. Though late afternoon 

has not yet arrived, twilight has and as

it swiftly takes possession of the

forest, nocturnal residents will slowly

emerge from their daytime havens

exchanging place with the creatures 

for whom daylight signals their cycle

of activity, shuffling along the forest

floor or winging from conifer to

deciduous tree sheltering from the 

wicked elements of cold, wind, sleet.

 

 

Patience, Patient!

 

There it goes, that subconscious

chimera of an emotion between a

shudder and a grimace elicited by

that nauseating sound of your heart

sucking and sloshing as the skilled

technician, courteous and reserved

plies her expertise for that echogram

you were scheduled for. Her free

hand manipulates keys, swiftly and

gently hovers on the mouse of that

peculiar keyboard her eyes fixed on

the monitor that you'd prefer to

bypass, fixing your attention instead

on her curly blond hair, the way her

eyelashes form their delicate arc

over her eyes, silhouetted in the

dim light of the chamber where

you lie inclined on a gurney and

where her left hand probes your chest

with that sensitive device producing

the images on that screen. Explosions

of colour, red, green, yellow as your

heart beats its rhythm, regular you

hope as you submit to the ritual and

she efficiently and unerringly guides

her instruments to fulfill the very 

specific directions your cardiologist

determined to interpret the mystery 

inherent in your ill-performing heart.

 

 

Winter Idyll

 

Light snow flurries spiral gently to the

forest floor long since hidden under a

snowpack from many earlier snowfalls

adding its loft and bright crystalline

beauty to the landscape. This an urban

forest accessed by a widespread community

prepared to delve into the ravine that holds

it in perpetuity for the animals and birds

that thrive within its generous acreage

and the people who live within distance

of access to this natural treasure they all

share. It is where a small proportion of

the population finds itself in search of

nature and tranquility and the opportunity

to feel free and unhampered by the calls

of urban life where it is incumbent upon

them to be pressed for time and distance

oppressing the soul searching for meaning

in their lives. Here they wander among the

trees, along a waterway, clamber the hills

descend the valleys aerating their lungs 

and freeing their limbs to recall of youth

and meet distant neighbours valuing and

searching for solace from the distractions

of their lives. It is where their beloved pets

run free themselves to commune with their

own replenishing their shared optimism in

the existence of the nature of all things.

 

 

Forest Fauna

 

You've noticed, haven't you that in

the summer months the forest holds its

secrets tight, reveals none of the drama

inherent in its habitat for those creatures

who relentlessly hunt as carnivores and

those destined to be their prey themselves

content with browsing, whether on land

in the air or in the waterways coursing

through the forest precincts. The skills

it takes to note the presence of clues

like scattered feathers, an owl's discarded

pellet, the partial pelt of a small furred

animal to interpret the life-and-death

theatre of existence in the forest are not

those of an oblivious visitor. During the

winter months when the forest floor is

steeped deep in snow the threat to life

and limb of small creatures deterred in

their desperate flight from violent carnage

wreaked upon them by fleet-footed

omnivores can be read and deciphered

with far more ease; delicate versus robust

paw prints, the final frantic effort of 

outspread wings leaving their impression

then flown off with up and away, the

tell-tale bright red splotch on pristine white

all relate the silent messages of forest fauna.

 

 

What If?

 

What if -- all you profound and earnest

searchers for that ineffable spark of

evasive knowledge -- the purpose of life is

quite simply existence. Know this: the

Universe owes you no explanation nor

explication. Travel the length of your

journey prepared to discover your own

responses to all you see, feel and will

experience for that response is yourself

alone, we all are unique in our perceptions

and what one person finds insufferable

another will find of interest in surmounting

difficulties to prepare for their place in

the world. Prepare to acknowledge those

moments of pleasure and satisfaction just

as much as those times of bleak suffering.

Never fail to find comfort in your own

sense of being and share it with those you

love instead of seeking counselling and

failing to acknowledge your endowment

of critical cerebral and emotional balance.