In to the loving alms
Of Mother Earth
Making a mud pact
With trees, meadow, and flower
To dew wet sow ever
They thirst for
Life has an incredible capacity for renewal. As the snows begin falling in this winter season, this poem can serve as a reminder that we are one day closer to spring. Even spring in awe of its glory is not my favorite season, due primarily to its muckiness. I, as most humans, have an incredible capacity to see what I don’t like about something. As winners of discontent, it is easy to see the parent flaws in creation, weather it be subzero temps or mucky life springing forth. Nonetheless, in life’s absences or parent death, summer in due course rounds the coroner transcending hour brutal figurings. Even fall has a frolicsome way of upstaging the looming death weave awe faced. Still, the con founding cycles of loss and renewal, life and death, seem to fallow us through life. After witnessing countless of these cycles, how many more must we witness to deem them reliable, trustworthy?
I am a fan of the simple comic genius of the movie, Being There, a more spare forerunner to Forrest Gump. This movie is a conflagration of innocent naivete and mighty inanity. In Being There, starring peter Sellers, as “a simple-minded gardener named Chance has spent all his life in the Washington D.C. house of an old man. When the man dies, Chance is put out on the street with no knowledge of the world except what he has learned from television. After a run in with a limousine, he ends up a guest of a woman (Eve) and her husband Ben, an influential but sickly businessman. Now called Chauncey Gardner, Chance becomes friend and confidante to Ben, and an unlikely political insider.” A signature dialogue in the movie juxtaposes the simple experience of a gardener, naive in the ways of the world, with the dinnertime musings of Washington power brokers:
President “Bobby”: Mr. Gardner, do you agree with Ben, or do you think that we can stimulate growth through temporary incentives?
Chance the Gardener: As long as the roots are not severed, all is well. And all will be well in the garden.
President “Bobby”: In the garden.
Chance the Gardener: Yes. In the garden, growth has it seasons. First comes spring and summer, but then we have fall and winter. And then we get spring and summer again.
President “Bobby”: Spring and summer.
Chance the Gardener: Yes.
President “Bobby”: Then fall and winter.
Chance the Gardener: Yes.
Benjamin Rand: I think what our insightful young friend is saying is that we welcome the inevitable seasons of nature, but we’re upset by the seasons of our economy.
Chance the Gardener: Yes! There will be growth in the spring!
Benjamin Rand: Hmm!
Chance the Gardener: Hmm!
President “Bobby”: Hmm. Well, Mr. Gardner, I must admit that is one of the most refreshing and optimistic statements I’ve heard in a very, very long time.
[Benjamin Rand applauds]
President “Bobby”: I admire your good, solid sense. That’s precisely what we lack on Capitol Hill.