Is this really what I want to bring home with me from our lovely visit to the big trees - this humiliating evidence of human small-mindedness, the sixteen drunk couples on the stump of the tree that was born in 600 A.D. and felled and skinned and shipped to New York in parts, the rest bowled on in the 1890's. Not really, but the pit in the stomach lingers. (or is that still from too much pie....)
Anyway, the memory I'd rather keep and will is from our friendly late full-moon walk through the giant sequoia grove - the path easy to walk in the milky BRIGHT light, the bears likely asleep, the sequoias, some of them still there towering towards the moon, their 'slow consciousness' as Joe once said, abiding. Then my small-mindedness, smallness, briefness, was a pleasure to experience. (Why is that so comforting, I continue to wonder...) The dance someday will end, the road will return to impassibility, invisibility as the world turns round (even we can't stop that, try as we might) - night and day at once, future and past for a moment meeting as just present which will still speak as it does at this moment, without us, or the moonlight even- the slight rustle from the higher canopies settling gently onto a perfect world.
I am, indeed, Thanks-giving...
How lucky my life. How much I love it here.
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