Consciousness,
Literature and the Arts
Archive
Volume
1 Number 2, July 2000
_______________________________________________________________
Learning
from trees
by
I.
I
approached the tree like Cinderella
Asking
it to shed me the boon of its being.
Maybe
the apron of my awareness had a hole,
or is
Being so fine it fell through the fabric?
The
fact is I walked away empty-minded,
wondering
whether I had asked anything meaningful
in the
first place?
II.
But I
came back (Trees love steadiness).
This
time I didn’t ask for anything.
I just
watched and marvelled
seeing
it covered all over with buds.
I
marvelled at the skill of the tree,
the
equal presence of the sap in the smallest twig,
the
changing of the colourless sap to bark
and bud
and leaf and blossom.
Some
hidden heart in the root or the trunk
or
among the leaves or may be even
among
the trees?
I was
never taught these things nor anyone I know.
These
questions are only taught
by the
trees themselves.
III.
The
origin of language is hidden because, as you get closer to its roots,
language
becomes scarce and eventually comes to a stop
like
the northern end of Haist Street.
Who
will deny that without language there can be no thought...?
(If
there is any argument we will leave it to the crows;
they
have a higher perspective and a more adequate choice of words.)
The
trees on the lower side of the golf course teach the origin of music.
I
suddenly saw the symphony of spring budding forth in perfect order
on the
silver keys played by the wind.
This is
the way it must have been in the beginning:
Music
created the writing.
It
would make schools so more meaningful
if they
taught basic facts.