Good morning you wonderful beings of life and limb, how I wonder if you are doing well or not. Not just the humans but kind of in a way to get this message of hope and resilience to the oncoming things we cannot see in the means of life just yet. To have the world at our fingertips, yet the world could burn the very being reaching out to hold onto its beauty. A fire of life and nature that wishes not to own but just exist.

The days have become much warmer and more like the summer I love, from birds singing and the world holding its breath for the next big thing. I just sit here with my shallow breaths that fill my lungs. Always in a wonder if I am what I am to be. Not just a human who does things, but a thing that takes thoughts and meanings of past and present and try to understand all of it. Why the things we create have an ending that only brings destruction, I want to be more than that, more than the means of this world to slowly end.

I wish that things from the past that loved each blade of grass, nature in the idea that concrete is not peaceful silence. It is a slow and penetrating dread of the trees around it. It is like when a tree whispers no one takes the time needed to hear it. Nature speaks slowly, very slowly. It is not a thing that is bound to answer in our terms. It is a provider of all things we need to live and when its breath to answer, we should not ask it to hurry or else things it provides can be taken away. Much like a child we act in the consort of the right now and not the slow recondition it takes to understand.

Things in this world are here for longer and will have been here longer then the very beginning of our development into the fleshy things we are now. We harbor the willing and kill the ones with cries of warning. Things don’t have to speak words to be heard, they are the things we have to choose to listen too. Grinding stone and falling trees don’t have to cry for us, they don’t weep; for us, they already have a wisdom we refuse to learn. For every tree burned and every stone smashed. It is not a destruction of the earth but the cancer that will end things long before anything that chooses our end. For we already have. Like a child being watched, form a distance that is not heard or seen by a child, the fall from a tree so high to the child death. Silence in the glory of lessons that are not new, but older than the rock that the child lays upon. We took our consciousness and lived in a tuberous mindset we are the masters of the stone. When the stone can take all from us and we cannot see it.

Then again, I am just a cray cray ginger who likes to think bigger then myself.

Until Later

Much Love

Your Friendly Ginger From The Woods.