A mustard flower is the true
prophet.
Of course the average person is
bound to reply, "Sure, that's nice, but this is real life, bills have to
be paid and work must be done."
So, that's the crux of the matter.
The matter is that the definitions of "real life" and "what must
be done" are more open to debate than the vast majority of us recognize.
I profoundly believe that most of
us most of the time are doing things not really needing to be done. In fact,
most of what most of us do most of the time is ultimately destructive in terms
of maintaining a sustainable living space, and often self-destructive as well
in terms of our enjoying healthy bodies and souls.
Where did the idea come from that
we all need to buy so much and live such neat, antiseptic lives? Why do so few
of us experiment with lives that are voluptuously yet somewhat ascetically
feral? Is there not a mellow, microbe-friendly, flower-sniffing Middle Path
between neurotic cleanliness and orderliness on the one hand, and lazy
rottenness and degeneration on the other? Cannot "real life" be a
Middle Path coursing through a field of flowers, and "what must be
done" be the sniffing of those flowers?
*****
ON THE PLEASURES OF LEAVING ANIMALS
ALONE
On Wednesday morning while preparing breakfast, an adult bluebird arrived with
a new fledgling. Their nestbox lies across a wide field so I wondered why the
parent would bring the young bird to perch on the solar cooker not ten feet
from me. While the fledgling perched there, the parent flew around catching
bugs and bringing them to the big-eyed youngster.
In a similar vein, earlier I put up
a nice box for the resident Carolina Wrens, but instead of using my box, which
was at the barn's edge, they chose a little covey-hole not far above the
entrance to the room where I do my computering. It was as if they wanted to be
near me. Now the wrens' first brood is raised and they've established their
second nest in a box of nails in the tool room across from where I work.
Sometimes as I work, a wren hops into my room and just looks at me.
Even the Green Anoles, skinks and
Fence Lizards seem to regard me as perfectly harmless, maybe even as a
desirable companion. This means that if I'm not careful I'll step on them, for
often they won't get out of my way as I walk toward them. A certain large Fence
Lizard likes to sun on a post right at the barn's door and doesn't move when I
pass just inches from him. At dusk, rabbits wander around right outside my
door, Bobwhites visit my garden, and deer stand in the field gawking at me.