Photo by Inactive. on Unsplash
I have been reviewing writing and just found this, written two months ago . . .
unpolished thoughts 6/13/19
Working from the surface, we slowly learn what lies underneath.
The shape of how we break through, reaching upwards, suggests the shape of our roots.
But our roots are tangled and hidden below the soil.
How shall we tend to them?
We may never see them, but we can grow our capacity to sense and feel them.
We can improve our ability to listen.
We can improve our ability to imagine.
We can paint imaginary pictures and compare our paintings to our sensations.
Then, every so often, we can rest.
It is, after all, not an easy task.
It is, after all, a task that never ends.
Unless we should decide that it should not be a task.
We have many tasks, most of which were given to us by others.
Who told you that you should hold yourself up that way?
Is it merely a task to hold ourselves upright against gravity?
Is it just a matter of correctly doing what we’ve been told?
Or is it about finding our roots?
Is it about the things we can’t see as well as those that we can?
Is it about relying on our own intuition?
Is it about testing our theories again and again?
Do you work well when the spotlight is turned on your face?
When expectant eyes examine your every movement?
What kind of light nurtures you the most?
What kind of light puts you most at ease?
Below the surface, our roots reach down.
The logic of their pathways, we can only guess.
Above ground, we see only one part of each other.
With this information, we can only guess about each other.
Still, it’s possible for us to begin to weave our roots together.
We can come together on the surface, then root down together.
We can invite these invisible entanglements,
Watching over what blossoms, and tending to it.
After a time, perhaps, we can sense more of our invisible weave.
After a time, perhaps, we can imagine more of the pattern.
We might begin to talk together, making shared decisions
About what to plant in the surrounding soil.
Our history has taught us well how to feed ourselves,
Yet there are many things we have never tasted.
How convenient then that we each carry within us
The flavors that the other has never known.
Together we’ll gather and cook,
Then start over, planting seeds and waiting.
Together we’ll harvest and plan.
Then again, we’ll gather and cook.
All the while, below the surface, our roots have their own plans.
They have gathered there, weaving histories,
Waiting for the moment to send new blossoms upwards,
Unlike anything we have ever seen before