Sunday, April 12, 2015

Good Morning Jack

Letter to my Son
Sunday, 12 April

Good Morning Jack…

It’s difficult getting lost in Southern California.  There are too many prominent landmarks.  The ocean is west, the mountains east and the desert has few roads so there is little opportunity to be confused as to which way to go.  Generally, it’s a choice of continuing forward or turn around and go back the way you came.  The simple layout there was a real confidence builder for me.

My navigation skills were useless for North Carolina.  After a number of years here I still confuse east with west.  I blame the trees for blocking my view in every direction. 

Tuesday morning I went out towards Reed’s goldmine from Kannapolis.  It was the last day of cool, overcast weather.  There were signs of light rain the previous night.

We get more rain than Seattle here.  Big deal.  We've got a roof over our head.  The animals outside put up with whatever comes their way.  Any kind of shelter makes matters a bit more tolerable.  An insect finds a hole in some wood and scurries inside to escape the drops and to hide.  Soon another insect finds the same hole and creeps inside.  He is quickly eaten by the first insect.  First come, first serve.

This path leads you to the princess castle where Sleeping Beauty waits for your kiss.

Here’s a portion of the forest being redeveloped.  Termites have been contracted to reverse engineer this ancient tree.

This is the kind of environment where you have all kinds of Whos for Horton to hear..

A tree dies and wills its remains to a slew of upstarts.

A wandering root drinks from a goblet of murk.

Scampering life abounds.  This would be paradise except for the fact your neighbors are trying to eat you.  When you think about it we've evolved from a long line of traumatized species.  It should be of no wonder we are the way we are.  I wonder if we are about to get ahead of ourselves – the power of science outsmarting our wisdom.  For instance, we find compelling advantages to redesigning ourselves genetically.  Enthusiasm abounds and we program out characteristics that made us who we are.  We shed our biological heritage and become something altogether different, by choice.  We each become a tree of knowledge and we rule our own bloodline extinct and we are finally good.


©  Tom Taylor   All Rights Reserved.

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