The less I am me, the more I am what I see and hear. Perhaps the moment I become nothing, I will become everything.
Tag: images
“Morton’s Pond” (XXVI)
“Sights” – Stillness of sky. Stillness of lake. Joined in reflection. Clouds blown together, clouds blown apart. Spider, fly, eater and eaten, diner and dinner, survivor and snack… joined in reflection.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXIV)
“Thoughts” – It’s hard to believe Thoreau became famous for doing this. Living in these woods and writing down his thoughts. I guess a lot of people say they would like to live in the woods, but almost none of them do it. Maybe that’s why he became famous—because people can continue to live in their big houses in the city and can read about living in a cabin. They can experience it without doing it. Maybe that’s what humans are looking for in life, to experience things without really doing them. That would explain all the televisions and computers and iPhones.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXIII)
“Thoughts” – I don’t think I was bitten by a deer tick today. Maybe knowledge is power.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXII)
“Sounds” – I talked to Pablo about deer ticks and he told me their full name is “ixodes scapularis” and that they drink an animal’s blood four to five days before letting go. He said they can spread lyme disease, but that humans are more susceptible than donkeys. Maybe that’s why there aren’t as many humans in the woods. Maybe now that I know more about deer ticks, they will be less interested in biting me.
“Morton’s Pond” (XXI)
“Tastes” – The grass didn’t taste as sweet this morning. I think it is because of last night’s pie. I suppose flavors eat each other like one sound eats another. I wonder if a donkey doesn’t taste as good to a deer tick after a deer tick has tasted a deer?
“Morton’s Pond” (XX)
“Smells” – Bonny and Pablo made a pumpkin pie. I could smell it from the other side of the lake. I walked to their cabin to tell them I could smell the pie, and they offered me a slice.
“Morton’s Pond” (XIX)
“Sounds” – Another day with Pablo. Listening to him talk to me and listening to me talk to him. I could also hear Bonny and Ditto by the lake. I think they were painting because I could smell the paint. There were large patches of silence between the words they were saying. Or maybe the patches of silence were when I was listening to Pablo or myself talk.
“Morton’s Pond” (XVIII)
“Sounds” – The echo of an axe. Pablo. I helped him stack wood in the shed behind his cabin. He said I should gather some.
“Blurtso hears a whisper” (XI)
Harlan? said Blurtso. Yes? said Harlan. Do you ever get frightened? Frightened? said Harlan. Yes, said Blurtso. Sometimes, said Harlan. Why? said Blurtso. Well, said Harlan, when you consider how fragile things are–life, love, happiness–and how they’re certain to vanish, and the nothingness that follows, it’s natural to be frightened… but you can still be optimistic. You can? said Blurtso. Sure, said Harlan, we still have a tin of chocolate, and plenty of whipped cream.