Wednesday, April 20, 2005

an Interlude

What is death?

A haunting question, the kind of thing most people tuck out of sight and do not examine.

While my lady love and I were in the Olympic National Forest, we saw trees standing 100 ft tall, with live branches only at the top. We saw trees piled deep with moss, ferns growing out of the moss, and a few fallen leaves resting still upon the ferns. We saw trees growing out of trees that had fallen, trees growing out of trees still standing. It all blurrs together and happens so slowly- over hundreds of years time scale.

Our movements of society and culture are like this. More like this than than they are like any environment I have ever come across. They grow out of each other, slowly dying and transforming, hard to tell when one becomes another.

If our sense of human meaning is rooted in our societal context (and indeed, for many it is often rooted in little else), then who are we to say what is more alive? Is it us or our trees?



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