|why is there so much gravity here?|
(purportedly the largest living organism on earth "For two dimensional area, the largest known clonal flowering plant, and indeed largest plant and organism, is a grove of male Aspen in Utah, nicknamed Pando (Populus tremuloides). The grove is connected by a single root system, and each stem above the ground is genetically identical. It is estimated to weigh approximately 6,000,000 kg, and covers 0.43 km² (106 acres"),
stunning rocky peaks holding summer snow fields nestled in their declivities, meadows, diverse vistas at every turn, and of course the icy falls.
it's a hike of medium difficulty for a kid, and on the inclines, moses kept saying "why is there so much gravity here?" i knew, and i know, what he meant. some things feel really hard even when they're beautiful and true.
moses loved the hike, but it was hard for him. i love my life and recognize how lucky i am to have it, but it's still really hard for me at times.
lately there has definitely been too much gravity. i don't know what's making it feel so hard when it really isn't.
|christian got under the falls and came out with brain freeze. i wasn't brave enough to go in.|
on the way down the trail,
a butterfly landed on my arm and just stayed there.
does it mean something good? is it a magical omen?
i hope so.
|butterfly sat very still on my arm for about sixty seconds.|
i kind of know what james wright says when he writes, "i have wasted my life."
when you sit and look at a butterfly, you might think, at least for a moment, that nothing else matters.
actually, i have no idea what james wright means.
but to me it means that when a butterfly lands on you, and you stop and wait for it to fly away, you might realize you had been working too hard at the wrong things, and instead should be effortlessly beautiful and still.
Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota
Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly,
Asleep on the black trunk,
Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.
Down the ravine behind the empty house,
The cowbells follow one another
Into the distances of the afternoon.
To my right,
In a field of sunlight between two pines,
The droppings of last year’s horses
Blaze up into golden stones.
I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.
A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.
I have wasted my life.
p.s. right now we're watching glenn gould playing the bach brandenburg #5. c. just said, "how could anyone listening to this believe there's not a god?" i love his faith, and wish i could experience it for even one second. i know what he means about the brandenburg #5, though.