Tag Archives: Nature

Belief Part 3

It is that we are all made from the same stuff as stars; but reformed to eat, breathe, think and move. My mother believes that God made the world, but if I profess to be a part of God, even in the most oblique way, that comment would be considered as blasphemous. If such a God exists, how could it be that he/she or it made us, yet we are separated from he/she or it?

In the nature that I live in, I feel very much a part of everything.

In the rivers and the oceans I see the metaphor of the constant motion of life. Though a granite mountain may seem at rest, at work are many forces from the molecular to the macro-molecular – all moving like a solid, heaving ocean.

Where I live I can always know which direction is south strictly by looking at the way the trees grow. The ubiquitous wind of North Wales pushes trees to point north because the prevailing wind here, on Anglesey, is from the south. This is a practical and immediate way to know where you are; but maybe not where you were before this. This notable, physical manifestation of the wind is also an arboreal reminder of the fact that we are bent, shaped by our environment – no matter the type of tree.

I look out my window and see the clouds moving by as testament to change; water changing form. In that medium of ether between the surface of a body water to the clouds, I can see the arc of my life; I am the same person born to this world, but now I’m different by shape and the way I interpret light.

Finally, in other humans I see a mirror and in that mirror I see my frailties and my fortitude. If I criticize or praise another, it is only because I see in them what I want to change about myself or what I love about myself.

This is not an exhaustive list of the parts of nature with which I feel a connection, but it contains the elements that I observe daily. We are without a doubt god-like (or intelligence-like) in-so-much as we are made of that stuff which is everywhere.


No Deceit

The sky turns. The river –

deep-running no deceit.

Slowly, my bones are settling,

rattling here under the osprey’s eye –

there’s a river pulling through me.

 

A diamond

compressed –

decompress a dream compressed.

Hard rocks, more rocks

rock climbing

nothing is more real than the sky turning bringing the

moon and sun to different languages,

or to cold feet and wet hands and tired eyes – all the rest is fabrication, lies –

a rock is hard

except by the water’s edge.

Crystal of a river’s beach

sparkles in the morning

after a river’s night of playing sculptor.

 

The night continues until day, and day until night.

The river flows and never stops.