there is no magic in wild places. nothing supernatural or sorcerous. there is only honesty. but it is honesty so strong, so forceful, as to be mistaken for enchantment. it beguiles some and terrifies others; and a few it drives to utter madness. this kind of honesty is difficult to find in the civilized world, where mere survival is not enough. hiding becomes second nature, deception becomes rote, in the pursuit of civility. certainly creatures hide, but only in pursuit of survival. in nature all things are laid bare, beauty and ugliness, fear and love. in the wilds, where furred creatures far outnumber hairless apes, there is nowhere to hide.
art, i think, or the best of it at least, tries to reach at that honesty we are missing- tries to tap in to the root of things, the place where all things are apparent.
to be bewitched by nature; to believe that it holds some magic, some power, that we do not also hold; is to be sorely mistaken. search deeply and you will find it, if you want to.
7.11.07
backwoods voodoo
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Absolutely fantastic.
ps. I think there is plenty of room for dishonesty in our nasty, brutish, and short lives in the wilderness, but that doesn't take from the beauty of what you wrote.
the trees are mystics,
the leaves oracles
the signs we speak of
are not the signs left
nor the ones we see
the consciousness
is not ours alone to keep
nature speaks
it speaks to us all
there are no secrets to keep
found on a path
is a splay of wet leaves—
the love and beauty of wet autumn moonlight
Post a Comment