A Walk Through Your Forest

Often, the reality of the present is an overcast day, where a half-cultivated forest springs by the road.

Natural vision, and the fog of the surroundings shows that we have an amount of presence and foresight, but can only see so far. It is uncomfortable at first to be here, or to realise we are here. The eternal present, covered in a vast planet teeming with life.

What lives near us, our language, things close to us are like the details of the bark, the songs of birds calling. Crawling up the trees, indistinct insects, beetles, ladybugs and bees are the half a hundred things we enjoy, the things that come to mind every day.

Warm earth is made from those crisped and crushed leaves. That’s economy, or the passage of days. Warm memories, like the shame of an embarrassment or defeat litter the floor.

We shiver in the cold, or dislike passing through. Or we went out into the breeze, this being one of many days, many more to come. It is both quiet here somehow, yet never silent. If you closed your eyes, a whole would make itself evident around you. And in time, you hear the rush of what passes the road you have to cross.

What is the road? Where is it going? This is the tarmac and stones made by people long beyond us, going to who knows where for systems we all recognise. The artificialities we cannot escape. The route to enterprise. Or, for some people a means to enjoy a ride.

All of us have a natural world inside us, and is a part of us. From the shavings of dust from a burst star, to the living roots of family, by the time we arrive at realising it, there is an expanse in the day to day. We are a gestalt organism, piloting so many thoughts, components, wearing an array of masks and costumes, the greatest theatre that was ever devised.

How do we approach that forest? What do you make of the present?