Where shall I go from here? The question that drives a lifetime or a civilization. Always there up front or hiding in the background. It refuses to go away even though a person answers the question every day. And that's where I sit at the moment with a blank page in front of me.
'Ripening' was chosen as title for this series of thoughts and reflects an idea which has grown on me over the years. In short, none of us is done growing up till we're dead. Not done till we've evolved into other things. Maybe on all levels, seen and unseen. Ain't that highfalutin'? But it's how I feel at the moment. And it doesn't mean we're always changing for the better. A dark red apple tastes better to me than a brown one puckering down from a bare branch in early April. But if we're lucky we end up as brown ones before we fall off the tree. Not a perfect metaphor, has its holes but it's hopefully not far off the mark.
While I'm on the subject, the large reflects the small and vice versa. Back in the '60s that was dope talking. But it tends to be true. By tends I mean there are always exceptions. No rules just general tendencies (except maybe the grim reaper as in 'This too shall end'). Perhaps that's it. Everything graspable comes to an end. The only exception is the infinite unknown and unknowable. Yeah, I like the sound of that. So Old Testament and Taoist all rolled into one.
But that's not what I want to write about. Unless it works out that way now and then. Sometimes I'll write about my feet and why people who know me won't touch that subject. Or maybe my decades on the job. Or how the garden is going. Maybe something I saw in passing as I crept by on a forestry road up north. Truly I have no great plan. What'll be will be.
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