What I missed most , was that little child that smiled, from within, through rain, sleet, hail and fire. That child that did'nt just smile but did so with an accompanying wink. That reassurance she emanated, that 'its all a game' - made life in general worth living.
Of course, she had to be nurtured. Thoughts of goodness, a quick flash of a smile at a stranger, the awesome mystery of the skies, staring wonder struck at a passing flock of storks, to breathe deeply and be with 'there is nothing to run to but just to be here and now' were her food.
The first signs of her starvation started around four years ago. The famine wasn't a result of a single season failed monsoon, but whose seeds were germinated, with no inkling of it, well before, that took their cosy time and space consuming the occasional darkness until the roots had established their hold, the plumule metamorphosed into true leaves, stems that bypassed the bryophytic stage directly to become the angiosperm bearing flowers, seeds and fruits flourishing in the near complete darkness that now seemed to engulf while my child was reduced to a mere temporal existence much like the anaerobic bacteria that buried themselves in slime as the oxygen levels on primitive earth rose to lethal levels for them.
What a paradox! Flowering of this tree while my child starved.
This tree had to be done away with. The effects this tree had could fill pages of a psychology book. Removal of it, as one saw it, was gonna take time and patience. But first, to acknowledge that the tree was present. Then to realize that it required weeding. Then to get to work. And at various points of this axeing work, remind oneself, reassure oneself and get on. Wouldn't the tree have left its scars , even after its removal? Would it ever be the same? Same??? Same???? What is same? What is EVER same? Its a trick played by your mind. A mind that seeks security. It was wounded enough. It did'nt feel whole. Hence its seeking. But surely all this would be addressed once the weeding got done. No no, dousing it with Monsanto's newest ***cide wouldn't be a good solution. It would kill the tree alright but also the substratum.
The substratum had to be as intact as possible for it to support my child at some unforeseeable future. Hmm.
Chop away, chop away, a branch here, a twig there, a fruit here and a seed there.
Funnily, this tree couldn't host the variety of fauna that usually thrive on one such as this. How could they? They live in a tree of life not in one of desolation.
Once the upper branches suffered repeated attacks, the tree sensed its demise. The resolve of the practitioner ( out of sheer necessity) was not lost on the tree. It is still dying. My child has managed to survive this onslaught. She seems a little shaky, but getting better.
She realizes the importance of step by step progress. After all the earth's face with her numerous land forms are proof.
Of course, she had to be nurtured. Thoughts of goodness, a quick flash of a smile at a stranger, the awesome mystery of the skies, staring wonder struck at a passing flock of storks, to breathe deeply and be with 'there is nothing to run to but just to be here and now' were her food.
The first signs of her starvation started around four years ago. The famine wasn't a result of a single season failed monsoon, but whose seeds were germinated, with no inkling of it, well before, that took their cosy time and space consuming the occasional darkness until the roots had established their hold, the plumule metamorphosed into true leaves, stems that bypassed the bryophytic stage directly to become the angiosperm bearing flowers, seeds and fruits flourishing in the near complete darkness that now seemed to engulf while my child was reduced to a mere temporal existence much like the anaerobic bacteria that buried themselves in slime as the oxygen levels on primitive earth rose to lethal levels for them.
What a paradox! Flowering of this tree while my child starved.
This tree had to be done away with. The effects this tree had could fill pages of a psychology book. Removal of it, as one saw it, was gonna take time and patience. But first, to acknowledge that the tree was present. Then to realize that it required weeding. Then to get to work. And at various points of this axeing work, remind oneself, reassure oneself and get on. Wouldn't the tree have left its scars , even after its removal? Would it ever be the same? Same??? Same???? What is same? What is EVER same? Its a trick played by your mind. A mind that seeks security. It was wounded enough. It did'nt feel whole. Hence its seeking. But surely all this would be addressed once the weeding got done. No no, dousing it with Monsanto's newest ***cide wouldn't be a good solution. It would kill the tree alright but also the substratum.
The substratum had to be as intact as possible for it to support my child at some unforeseeable future. Hmm.
Chop away, chop away, a branch here, a twig there, a fruit here and a seed there.
Funnily, this tree couldn't host the variety of fauna that usually thrive on one such as this. How could they? They live in a tree of life not in one of desolation.
Once the upper branches suffered repeated attacks, the tree sensed its demise. The resolve of the practitioner ( out of sheer necessity) was not lost on the tree. It is still dying. My child has managed to survive this onslaught. She seems a little shaky, but getting better.
She realizes the importance of step by step progress. After all the earth's face with her numerous land forms are proof.
