Green Oasis

I am grateful for…

1. … a half-baked idea for a new blog (shh! don’t tell anyone about it yet) that I’m really excited about. I think I’ll have fun with it even if no one else pays attention (which is a good sign).
2. … the chance to learn stuff, one of my favorite things to do.
3. … the opportunity to watch the crazy, improbable miracle of life as I watch young things sprout and grow.
4. … the perspective that watching things die gives me.
5. … the good fun I have with my wife.

I last read The Old Man and the Sea for seventh grade reading class. What a difference twenty years make! While I’m not yet old, some lessons come only with time: they can’t be rushed. The consciously futile struggle against mortality enriches our stark, youthful views into compassionate, full color vistas.

Our consciousness vanishes in dreamless sleep every night. It’s such a familiar experience that we pay no attention to the annihilation of our sentience. I imagine we experience death as the dreamless sleep from which we never awake to notice that time has passed and the world has gone on without our awareness.

All the earth is a grave and nothing escapes it,
nothing is so perfect that it does not descend to its tomb.
Rivers, rivulets, fountains and waters flow,
but never return to their joyful beginnings;
anxiously they hasten on the vast realms of the rain god.
As they widen their banks, they also fashion the sad urn of their burial.

Filled are the bowels of the earth
with pestilential dust once flesh and bone,
once animate bodies of man who sat upon thrones,
decided cases, presided in council, commanded armies,
conquered provinces, possessed treasure, destroyed temples,
exulted in their pride, majesty, fortune, praise and power.

Vanished are these glories, just as the fearful smoke vanishes
that belches forth from the infernal fires of Popocatepetl.
Nothing recalls them but the written pate.

(A poem purportedly written by Nezahualcoyotl, King of Texcoco)