“The Fountain”
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0414993/
*I watched a movie called “The Fountain.” It’s about a man, a medical researcher, whose wife is dying because of a tumor in her brain. He is working on a new medicine that will stop and shrink the tumor. She dies just minutes before he is informed that the last experiment worked. He has been obsessed—frantically obsessed—with his research to develop a cure for this brain tumor. At her funeral, he says that “Death is a disease like any other, and there’s a cure for it. I will find that cure.” After she dies, he becomes obsessed with finding a cure for death.
It’s a rather surreal movie, passing from scenes in his “real” life, to surreal scenes in his mind, and then to scenes from this book his wife was writing about Spain and the Inquisition. After she dies, the man sees in his mind-world his wife alive and well. He is overcome with grief, and when he looks up at her again, she is the Queen of Spain who has sent him to find the Lost Pyramid of the Mayans which contains the secret source of immortality—the lost Tree of Life from Eden. The Queen tells him that he will find this, that he knows where it is. His wife, just before she died, had asked him to write the last chapter of the book. He said he didn’t know the ending. She said that he did know and he will know. In this surreal mind-world, the Queen changes from the Queen to his wife saying these words and back again to the Queen.
As I watched this movie, I kept thinking how completely it describes man’s condition.
Archetypally speaking, a man’s wife, or a country’s queen, represents symbolically the man’s anima, or soul. Now, if we can say that Spain represents this man’s world, and the Queen of Spain represents this man’s soul, I think we can understand this movie a bit better. This man is completely unable to accept death, either his wife’s or his own. This inability to accept the inevitable is the fuel for his frantic obsession to find a cure for death. In a way that he does not know, he is right. Real Death is a disease, and it is curable. But it’s a disease of the spirit and the cure is spiritual. The disease and the cure are spiritual, and physical disease and death continue as long as man lives on this earth. Man was not created to die, but he turned away from Life and allowed Death to enter the world. This turning away from Life is the spiritual sickness that causes death. Therefore, turning TOWARD Life is the cure for death. Turning toward God brings us to Life just as surely as continually walking east keeps the sun in our faces. Any turning to the right or left, and the sun is no longer in our faces, only darkness. This is the “medicine,” the cure this man so frantically sought. If he could only know.
In the last section of the movie, he replays in his mind a scene from the beginning of the movie in which his wife calls him to come walk with her in the first snow of the season, because that is their custom. He is too busy, and declines. Except now, at the end, after she has died, in his replay of this scene, he follows her out into the snow, but when he catches up with her, the scene switches to his surreal mind-world and his wife becomes the tree that is in that mind-world of his. He climbs this tree to the top and continues on higher, floating through space. As he floats he assumes the cross-legged “lotus position” so common to eastern meditation. (Man intuitively knows that all the answers to life’s questions are spiritual, but he cannot envision Truth in the fake spirituality of the mostly protestant Christianity of this world, so he turns to the east. It’s ironic how in his desperation he intuitively turns toward the east.) The scene switches again to the search for the lost Mayan temple. Just as he finds the way there, he is confronted by the temple guard and attacked. He is wounded in this attack, but suddenly he is no longer the Spanish conquistador; he is the meditating monk floating in mid-air in the lotus position. The temple guard immediately kneels, asks forgiveness, says “We will be immortal,” and offers his throat to be cut. He becomes the Conquistador again and cuts the guard’s throat. Then he enters the temple and sees the Tree of Life growing in the middle of a square lake. The number four, and the square, represent wholeness.
To my way of thinking, this scene in which he becomes the “meditating monk” symbolically represents that we cannot access Truth until we become apathetic, not the “I don’t care” type of apathy, but the apathea, or dispassion, of which the ancient Church Fathers speak. Now, this movie, to be perfect, should have ended here, but it didn’t.
He walks on top of the water (of course, having achieved perfection) to the tree. He stabs the tree with his dagger, and white sap flows out. He touches it, and a drop of the sap falls from his fingers to the ground from which immediately springs a blossoming plant. This blossoming plant hearkens back to an earlier scene in the movie in which he says his wife will live and blossom again. He puts the sap on his wound, and it heals. He goes a little nuts here, tears the dagger out of the tree, cups his hands to catch the flowing sap, and channels it into his mouth. Then the tree groans, and a blinding light appears. He sees his queen in this light, and she reaches to put a ring on his finger. Somehow the ring falls onto the ground. He freaks and falls. As he is freaking out and lying there, his wound reopens and the same flowering plant grows out of him that grew out of the ground when he dropped the tree’s sap. He tears at the plant, trying to get it out of himself, but it grows faster than he can tear. Soon it is growing out of every part of him, and he becomes only a man-shaped patch of this flowering plant on the ground.
The scene switches again. We see the ring on the ground, and the man picks it up. He is in his “meditating monk” form, bathed in blinding light. He holds the ring up and looks at it. (A ring, or circle, is a symbol of eternity and completeness.) Finally, he places the ring on his finger, and is immediately catapulted up and he becomes the tree, which has a fruit on it--a round, prickly fruit which reminds me of the prickly seed-pods of a sweetgum tree, but that’s neither here nor there. We see his wife pick this fruit off the tree and hand it to the man. He looks at it puzzlingly.
Then the scene changes again. The man is standing in the snow by his wife’s grave. He digs through the snow and plants the seed on top of her grave. He stands and looks up into the sky and sees a new star, or nebula, shine out. Then in his mind he again whispers to his dying wife that “everything is alright.”
These last scenes seem to me to represent mankind’s lack of true understanding, his insistence that he can “get it right” and “fix it” all by himself. He should have just stopped when he found Truth, instead of trying to interpret it and use it for himself.
*This was hastily written, and it sure could use a LOT of polishing up and expanding, but my purpose was only to get my basic thoughts down—not create some perfectly written piece. Many symbols and scenes were merely glossed over.
Friday, September 28, 2007
"God's Creation Sings"
A dear, online friend, Theodora in the Mountains posted a beautiful "meditation" on a group I subscribe to. This was so beautiful that I asked for her permission to re-print it here, which she graciously gave me. So, here it is. I wish I could write like this. Heck, I wish I could think like this!
God's creation sings
Sitting on the porch with my morning coffee I was enchanted by the wind moving through the trees. The sound was like a choir in full voice. As it raced through the tops of the tall, majestic pines the drone was like a mighty horn blowing through creation. As it reached the dry, drought ridden mighty oaks and maples it reached up into the high notes as it shook the leaves to the ground. A shower of dead leaves filled the air around the house. What a creation our Lord God made for us. I thought of the poem I had just read in a book found at the one last book store in town. A second hand store where the owner knows every book on her many shelves. It is titled "Rugged Hills, Gentle Folk - My friends and Neighbors in the Big Pine Valley". The life of that people put down in beautiful words and pictures. It is poem from 1900's about Fall.
Come little leaves, said the wind one day,
Come over the meadows with me and play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone and the day's growing cold.
Come little leaves! said the wind's loud call,
Down they came, fluttering one and all.
Over the fields, they danced and flew,
Singing the songs that only they knew.
Dancing and flying, the little leaves went.
For Winter was calling and they were content.
How like the Wind of God that sweeps through our lives. The changes of the seasons are given and the Lord provides even when the seasons change and what was once is no more. The drought makes the songs sung by my trees a different one than before but the Wind of God still brings forth the music of Him. My trees are one though not the same. There are Oak, and Maple, Pine and Dogwood. All trees but different in their own way. And the Wind of God blows through them all to the make a glorious mountain of songs. I
listen to the song as the Wind surrounds me, sitting on my porch. This too is life, this too is the Faith. Come Wind of God, sing for me Thy glorious song.
Delete if you wish, but the song goes on as so, too, will our Faith in this world to come.
Theodora in The Mountains
God's creation sings
Sitting on the porch with my morning coffee I was enchanted by the wind moving through the trees. The sound was like a choir in full voice. As it raced through the tops of the tall, majestic pines the drone was like a mighty horn blowing through creation. As it reached the dry, drought ridden mighty oaks and maples it reached up into the high notes as it shook the leaves to the ground. A shower of dead leaves filled the air around the house. What a creation our Lord God made for us. I thought of the poem I had just read in a book found at the one last book store in town. A second hand store where the owner knows every book on her many shelves. It is titled "Rugged Hills, Gentle Folk - My friends and Neighbors in the Big Pine Valley". The life of that people put down in beautiful words and pictures. It is poem from 1900's about Fall.
Come little leaves, said the wind one day,
Come over the meadows with me and play.
Put on your dresses of red and gold;
Summer is gone and the day's growing cold.
Come little leaves! said the wind's loud call,
Down they came, fluttering one and all.
Over the fields, they danced and flew,
Singing the songs that only they knew.
Dancing and flying, the little leaves went.
For Winter was calling and they were content.
How like the Wind of God that sweeps through our lives. The changes of the seasons are given and the Lord provides even when the seasons change and what was once is no more. The drought makes the songs sung by my trees a different one than before but the Wind of God still brings forth the music of Him. My trees are one though not the same. There are Oak, and Maple, Pine and Dogwood. All trees but different in their own way. And the Wind of God blows through them all to the make a glorious mountain of songs. I
listen to the song as the Wind surrounds me, sitting on my porch. This too is life, this too is the Faith. Come Wind of God, sing for me Thy glorious song.
Delete if you wish, but the song goes on as so, too, will our Faith in this world to come.
Theodora in The Mountains
Sunday, September 23, 2007
An American Epidemic?
Just lately, it seems, I've heard more people say they suffer, regularly or occasionally, from depression. I can speak only about depression in the USA, because I've never been out of the country. (I don't count that weekend foray into Nuevo Laredo more than 30 years ago.) My mind always wanders into the "why" of things. I can't help it any more than I can help breathing, even though it tends to irritate some people. Why is it that so many Americans are depressed? Is there some toxin in the polluted air that causes this? Is there some nutrient missing in the American "diet," or some element that inundates our system and fogs our brains and judgement? Is it the completely unrealistic portrayal of "the good life" in advertising? Is it the corporate expectation that everyone give their best 24/7 without room for being human and sometimes catching colds and/or just needing time to rest and re-create themselves?
While some conspiracy theorists might favor the polluted air and deficient diet thoughts, frankly, I believe that the cause of our depression lies in the expectations of the later two suggestions and their impossiblility of attainment. We believe, though, that not only are they possible to attain, they are expected. There is no room for human error or weakness in this society. Employers grudgingly give a day or maybe two (if he's generous) off if an employee gets the 'flu. Get real. Influenza is a killer, and makes its victim miserable with body aches and fevers for at least ten days. How is a person supposed to perform at all, much less at the eternally expected peak of perfection, when he is shivering from chills and fever? The employer would rather see on paper that he has good employee attendance rather than protect the majority of his workers from catching this contageous disease just because everyone is supposed to "be strong" and not "wimp out" when he is sick. How sick is that attitude?
Along with the totally unrealistic expectation of perfect health is the equally unrealistic expectation that everyone is to perform at peak skill and perfection at all times. This expectation resides not just with employers, but with the general populace at large, whether they realize it or not, and even in our own minds. If we're having a bad day at work, we're told to "snap out of it," or "get with the program," served with side innuendoes that nobody is irreplaceable. In our private lives, even our friends (and ourselves, too, truth be told) expect a "Martha Stewart" type of perfection in our homes, our hospitality, our socializing. Who has the strength to maintain that for any length of time at all, much less 24/7? Why on earth do we put so much value in what other people think of us, anyway? (But that's another story altogether.)
So, we run around like rats in a cage searching for that eternally elusive piece of cheese that will miraculously make us perfect so we can be happy. Happy about what? That other people approve of us? That we kill ourselves to promote some greedy employer's promotion of capitalism? Will we be happy that we have neglected our spouses and children and offered them up on the altar of social approval? How shallow can we be? If our happiness depends upon our being perfect in every way, and in gaining the sunny smiles of society's acceptance and approval; then it's no wonder we are depressed. We have set for ourselves an impossible task.
As an Orthodox Christian who hourly falls far short of perfection, I look at the world around me, and I'm sad. The level of suffering out there is overwhelming, and my heart literally breaks for all the people. I want to take them by the shoulders and look straight into their faces and say, "Wake up! Happiness is inside you, not outside of you." I read a little blurb recently that said, essentially, that if we are always dissatisfied with what we have, then we will always be unhappy. On the other hand, if we can learn to be satisfied with what we have, then we will be happy. That is so true. I feel so lucky to have the caring, understanding, and loving husband that I am privileged to say is mine. I feel so lucky that he has stayed with me through more "thick" than "thin" in our 37 years of marriage. I feel so lucky that he has worked when he was sick, when things at work were less than optimal, and come home to me every night to keep the bills paid, food on the table, and a good roof over our heads, and then pitched in with whatever "crisis" was going on the lives of our children. Heaven knows that there were many times that no one would have blamed him if he had thrown in towel. I am so lucky that all three of my adult children talk with me, share their lives, ask my opinion and advice on things. In spite of all my many, many faults, they have all become good, caring, productive individuals whom I am very proud to know. How can I be dissatisfied with all that and more?
Some Orthodox fathers say that depression is a result of sin, and they are right. But there is also a disease or dysfunction of the body that can, and does, cause debilitating depression. This type of depression can, and must, be managed with the help of a physician. It's not my purpose to say that all depression is "all in your head." No, not at all. I've had that one thrown at me far too many times to denigrate a person's experience that way. However, I am not qualified to address the biological side of depression. (I'm really not qualified to discuss anything about depression, or much of anything else, except my own experience of it.) For a good, comprehensive discussion of depression and modern psychology, read Fr. Stephen Fraser's essay here.
But I want to get back to this "depression is caused by sin" concept. When I first read about that, I was offended and appalled at the insensitivity of the writers. (There are many articles and books by Orthodox authors on this subject.) I didn't even finish reading the book, but put it down to gather dust. However, the idea stuck in my mind, and I've been turning it around in there for some years now. I am convinced that there is a type of depression that is biological in its genesis, and the sufferer of this type must take advantage of the services of a good doctor. However, I'm equally convinced that even this type of depression can be, and most likely is, aggravated by sin. I'm also convinced that a non-biological depression exists that most likely has sin as it's prime cause. How can this be?
I've done a bit of reading about this sin-as-cause concept, but not nearly enough to speak in any way authoritatively. I have thought a lot about it as it pertains to me, personally. My thoughts, briefly, are that the basic sin (or common denominator of all sin, if you will) is pride. There's no surprise there. To my mind, all of our unrealistic expectations about and for ourselves, whatever they may be (and they may be quite different from any expressed in this short meandering), have pride as their root cause--pride in our own capacity to govern and control our lives and feelings. We can't and don't "measure up," so we begin to think of ourselves as "not good enough," or (my favorite) "defective," or "inadequate." This type of thinking leads us to anger towards people and circumstances outside ourselves, and finally towards ourselves for being so weak, defective, inadequate, no good, etc. We become depressed. We sink into the bog and wallow until we hurt so bad we must do something about it. So, we find some poor, unsuspecting, caring soul and dump on him or her. Or, if we're lucky enough to have a good confessor (or an available priest at all), we dump it all on him. This is the best thing to do, if we can. After we've done the dumping, we feel better. The sun shines again, and we face the world with a smile on our faces. Until the constant barage of expected perfection, whether coming from our own minds or from society, takes its toll and we find ourselves in the bog of depression again. So the cycle continues. The trick is to break this cycle. But how?
Well, for an Orthodox Christian, availing ourselves as frequently as our circumstances allow of Confession and Communion is the only cure that heals, because this type of depression is an illness of the soul. This type of depression cannot be managed or healed by secular medicine or even therapy. Only the Church is the appropriate "hospital" for soul sicknesses.
In addition to availing ourselves frequently of the Mysteries, we must learn to be vigilant in our minds. We must learn to consciously become aware and recognize when these self-deprecating thoughts make their first appearance in our minds. The moment they first rear their ugly heads, we must learn to close the door of our minds and hearts to them. To do this, we simply refuse to entertain the thoughts when they appear. Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos discusses this process very well in his book Orthodox Spirituality, or more specifically in his conclusion to this book in a section called "Praxis and Theoria."
This vigilance is no small or easy task. It's exhausting. It can also be frustrating to learn how often we allow ourselves access to destructive thoughts and feelings; which can lead to depression, because, of course, we should be better or stronger than that. As I said, it's not easy, but "practice makes perfect" as they say.
At the bottom of all this, we need to learn to rely on God and not ourselves.
"Put not your trust in princes, in sons of men, in whom there is no salvation."
While some conspiracy theorists might favor the polluted air and deficient diet thoughts, frankly, I believe that the cause of our depression lies in the expectations of the later two suggestions and their impossiblility of attainment. We believe, though, that not only are they possible to attain, they are expected. There is no room for human error or weakness in this society. Employers grudgingly give a day or maybe two (if he's generous) off if an employee gets the 'flu. Get real. Influenza is a killer, and makes its victim miserable with body aches and fevers for at least ten days. How is a person supposed to perform at all, much less at the eternally expected peak of perfection, when he is shivering from chills and fever? The employer would rather see on paper that he has good employee attendance rather than protect the majority of his workers from catching this contageous disease just because everyone is supposed to "be strong" and not "wimp out" when he is sick. How sick is that attitude?
Along with the totally unrealistic expectation of perfect health is the equally unrealistic expectation that everyone is to perform at peak skill and perfection at all times. This expectation resides not just with employers, but with the general populace at large, whether they realize it or not, and even in our own minds. If we're having a bad day at work, we're told to "snap out of it," or "get with the program," served with side innuendoes that nobody is irreplaceable. In our private lives, even our friends (and ourselves, too, truth be told) expect a "Martha Stewart" type of perfection in our homes, our hospitality, our socializing. Who has the strength to maintain that for any length of time at all, much less 24/7? Why on earth do we put so much value in what other people think of us, anyway? (But that's another story altogether.)
So, we run around like rats in a cage searching for that eternally elusive piece of cheese that will miraculously make us perfect so we can be happy. Happy about what? That other people approve of us? That we kill ourselves to promote some greedy employer's promotion of capitalism? Will we be happy that we have neglected our spouses and children and offered them up on the altar of social approval? How shallow can we be? If our happiness depends upon our being perfect in every way, and in gaining the sunny smiles of society's acceptance and approval; then it's no wonder we are depressed. We have set for ourselves an impossible task.
As an Orthodox Christian who hourly falls far short of perfection, I look at the world around me, and I'm sad. The level of suffering out there is overwhelming, and my heart literally breaks for all the people. I want to take them by the shoulders and look straight into their faces and say, "Wake up! Happiness is inside you, not outside of you." I read a little blurb recently that said, essentially, that if we are always dissatisfied with what we have, then we will always be unhappy. On the other hand, if we can learn to be satisfied with what we have, then we will be happy. That is so true. I feel so lucky to have the caring, understanding, and loving husband that I am privileged to say is mine. I feel so lucky that he has stayed with me through more "thick" than "thin" in our 37 years of marriage. I feel so lucky that he has worked when he was sick, when things at work were less than optimal, and come home to me every night to keep the bills paid, food on the table, and a good roof over our heads, and then pitched in with whatever "crisis" was going on the lives of our children. Heaven knows that there were many times that no one would have blamed him if he had thrown in towel. I am so lucky that all three of my adult children talk with me, share their lives, ask my opinion and advice on things. In spite of all my many, many faults, they have all become good, caring, productive individuals whom I am very proud to know. How can I be dissatisfied with all that and more?
Some Orthodox fathers say that depression is a result of sin, and they are right. But there is also a disease or dysfunction of the body that can, and does, cause debilitating depression. This type of depression can, and must, be managed with the help of a physician. It's not my purpose to say that all depression is "all in your head." No, not at all. I've had that one thrown at me far too many times to denigrate a person's experience that way. However, I am not qualified to address the biological side of depression. (I'm really not qualified to discuss anything about depression, or much of anything else, except my own experience of it.) For a good, comprehensive discussion of depression and modern psychology, read Fr. Stephen Fraser's essay here.
But I want to get back to this "depression is caused by sin" concept. When I first read about that, I was offended and appalled at the insensitivity of the writers. (There are many articles and books by Orthodox authors on this subject.) I didn't even finish reading the book, but put it down to gather dust. However, the idea stuck in my mind, and I've been turning it around in there for some years now. I am convinced that there is a type of depression that is biological in its genesis, and the sufferer of this type must take advantage of the services of a good doctor. However, I'm equally convinced that even this type of depression can be, and most likely is, aggravated by sin. I'm also convinced that a non-biological depression exists that most likely has sin as it's prime cause. How can this be?
I've done a bit of reading about this sin-as-cause concept, but not nearly enough to speak in any way authoritatively. I have thought a lot about it as it pertains to me, personally. My thoughts, briefly, are that the basic sin (or common denominator of all sin, if you will) is pride. There's no surprise there. To my mind, all of our unrealistic expectations about and for ourselves, whatever they may be (and they may be quite different from any expressed in this short meandering), have pride as their root cause--pride in our own capacity to govern and control our lives and feelings. We can't and don't "measure up," so we begin to think of ourselves as "not good enough," or (my favorite) "defective," or "inadequate." This type of thinking leads us to anger towards people and circumstances outside ourselves, and finally towards ourselves for being so weak, defective, inadequate, no good, etc. We become depressed. We sink into the bog and wallow until we hurt so bad we must do something about it. So, we find some poor, unsuspecting, caring soul and dump on him or her. Or, if we're lucky enough to have a good confessor (or an available priest at all), we dump it all on him. This is the best thing to do, if we can. After we've done the dumping, we feel better. The sun shines again, and we face the world with a smile on our faces. Until the constant barage of expected perfection, whether coming from our own minds or from society, takes its toll and we find ourselves in the bog of depression again. So the cycle continues. The trick is to break this cycle. But how?
Well, for an Orthodox Christian, availing ourselves as frequently as our circumstances allow of Confession and Communion is the only cure that heals, because this type of depression is an illness of the soul. This type of depression cannot be managed or healed by secular medicine or even therapy. Only the Church is the appropriate "hospital" for soul sicknesses.
In addition to availing ourselves frequently of the Mysteries, we must learn to be vigilant in our minds. We must learn to consciously become aware and recognize when these self-deprecating thoughts make their first appearance in our minds. The moment they first rear their ugly heads, we must learn to close the door of our minds and hearts to them. To do this, we simply refuse to entertain the thoughts when they appear. Metropolitan Hierotheos of Nafpaktos discusses this process very well in his book Orthodox Spirituality, or more specifically in his conclusion to this book in a section called "Praxis and Theoria."
This vigilance is no small or easy task. It's exhausting. It can also be frustrating to learn how often we allow ourselves access to destructive thoughts and feelings; which can lead to depression, because, of course, we should be better or stronger than that. As I said, it's not easy, but "practice makes perfect" as they say.
At the bottom of all this, we need to learn to rely on God and not ourselves.
"Put not your trust in princes, in sons of men, in whom there is no salvation."
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Family life to the tune of Pachabel's Canon in D
There was a link to this on another forum I'm on. It's all about family life with kids. Whether you're in the midst of raising children now, or have BTDT, you'll enjoy this father's rendition of family chaos to the tune of Pachabel's Canon in D.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
"whacko" thyroid
I had a follow-up doctor appointment this Friday morning. The doctor informed me that my TSH level is 4.65 -- slightly less than one point inside the "normal range" on the high end. Now, I had Graves Disease back in 1997-98 and was treated and made a "full" recovery in a short time. My doctor at that time told me that people who get Graves Disease invariably get hypothyroid at some time in the future after recovering. So, I am a bit perplexed as to how/why my TSH is getting high. The doctor said that sometimes people with/tending toward hyperthyroid have a "subclinical" hypothyroid. That doesn't make sense to me. I just didn't even ask for an explanation. I probably wouldn't understand it, anyway. Back in 1998-99 when I recovered from Graves Disease, my TSH levels were in the normal range, but just barely, and at the low end of the range. So, I guess they have been slowly rising since then. The doctor seemed a bit concerned, which concerned me. I will go back in six months for more bloodwork. I have to admit that I'm a bit frightened at this.
This rising TSH certainly would explain the insomnia, short temper, increased dream activity, fatigue, and nervousness I've been feeling these past several months.
This rising TSH certainly would explain the insomnia, short temper, increased dream activity, fatigue, and nervousness I've been feeling these past several months.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
bleh
Not been sleeping well lately. Can't seem to turn off my mind at night, so I lie awake with thoughts crowding out sleep. So, I feel rather foggy-headed today; but not so foggy-headed that I couldn't ace this online grammar "test." :P (Thanks, Meg.)
You Scored an A 
Saturday, September 01, 2007
Roots
My poultry yard is a large, fenced area in a pine woods on the side of a small hill, or knob. It's been there for about five or six years now, and the chickens have scratched away all of the grass and weeds until it's just bare earth under the trees and privet bushes. This year I noticed that there are more tree roots showing above ground than before, especially in the more sloping areas. This observation has been brewing in the back of my mind for several weeks now, and yesterday I got the beginning of a thought about it. It's a rather negative thought that can lead to quite positive things, I think. But I suppose that depends on how you look at it.Roots are things hidden under the ground. They bring nurturance from the ground up to the plant we see above ground, and its state of health depends on what the roots bring to it. Now, the chickens' daily scratching and the yearly rains have begun to unearth the roots and expose them to the sun and air. On a material, practical level, I'm just a bit worried that if this process goes on too far, the trees might start falling. But I suppose, on a material, practical level, that is some years in the future. To get back to my thought, it seems to me that our secret thoughts and behaviors, whether good or ill, can be seen in the roots. With the erosion of weather and circumstance, these roots become exposed, and could threaten the existence of the plant above ground. In the same way, our "roots," or secret thoughts and behaviors, become exposed by the troubles and trials we experience. The above ground plant and fruit (our life and external behavior) show how well we travel through these trials and troubles. If our "roots" are bad, i.e. thin, diseased, and shallow, then the tree above ground might very well die. If they are sound, i.e. strong and deep, then the tree lives.
Once the roots are exposed, everyone can see their state, whether diseased or healthy. I don't know why this would happen to a person. That is, why, after many trials and troubles, a person's soul would be laid bare for all to see. Is it to show the disease so that medicines and remedies can be applied before the erosion becomes too much and the tree falls? Is it to show the strength and health so as to encourage others who have not come so far yet?
In the "poultry yard" of my life, circumstances and trials have scratched away all the "weeds," all of my coping mechanisms and bravado, until there's only "bare earth" now. Only my bare self, sans persona, shows. The incessant scratching of Life has worn me down to just me; what you see is what you get. Now in the evening of my life, after many years of troubles and sorrows, my roots are beginning to show. I wonder what they will disclose?
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(This was posted on my 360 blog in July of this year, but I wanted to share it here, too.)
Dawn Thoughts
I'm always amazed at the ever changing beauty of this planet we live on. This is a picture of the pine woods on the hill behind my house. My chickens live here. This was taken just as the sun was beginning to peep over the horizon. See how the sun paints everything red? That's amazing. And it's so pretty in real life. There's a freshness and clarity in the air at that time of day that lasts only a few minutes. I breathe in deeply the coolness and feel my body waking up, and a smile awakens my face and heart.
This is the same woods just a few minutes later--after the sun had risen completely over the horizon. See how the light has changed? It reminds me to take advantage of life's happy moments when they come, because they don't last forever. Granted, they last more than the five or ten minutes it took for the pine trees to "change" their "red dresses" to their "every day gray." Now the air is less clear, even though the day promises to be a bright one. The air is heavier, and I can already feel the cares of the day pushing their way into my world.
So, when I've managed to slow down my racing thoughts and my hurried steps enough to notice the sun coming over the horizon, I try to just stop and stand still for a few moments to drink it in and feed my soul before the concerns of the day begin their oppression of all my better sensibilities.
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