(Long Pond, St. John’s, NL – Aug 2017 – Click on image to download in high resolution.)
From the rustling of the leaves, to the morning song of the sparrow, to the awesomeness of the blue sky, the aesthetic aspects of nature brings me back again and again into a state of gratitude and tranquility. On occasion you may find my person in the solitude of the country surrounded by spruce, listening to the wind swirl through the trees as they comb-out from my mind all that is heavy and complex. The fragrance of the pine cone stirs an ecstatic emotion that remains forever nostalgic; a memory never quite actualized yet yearning for paradise. What branches may have grown forth; in their stead knots of various kinds. In these high places of reflection nature can speak with us, not to us, not with words or printed letter, but through intuitive recognition and kindred participation. Like foliage being blown away to reveal a spot on the ground or a clearing in the bush formerly hidden by shadow, all revealing random images that flow together as one non-sequential form; the flower of life. The more beauty we take in, the more vivid the flower of the intellect is recollected. Science would have us believe that the brain is wired with interconnected neurons to make sense of things but what about the roots of the trees that run deep into the soil? Do they not also commune with one another in subtle ways and behold a network of their own? And should we sit in meditation under its cover, what prevents human-being from receiving their unbroken line of thought? Just because we are in the habit of breaking up thought into fragmented pieces so that we might ascertain its meaning through discursive thinking, doesn’t render vertical thought (non-thinking) of no importance. Perhaps it is beneficial to be attuned with thought at the level of plant before climbing the ladder of cognition.
Here are a few quotes for further reflection.
Love & light,
“Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.” – T.S. Eliot