Short #15: The Sense
I cannot tell you how it is, but I can say for certain that in your own way, you already know.
You and I, we just have to remember.
I cannot tell you precisely how it is, to lie down with the grass in a park, looking up as a starling lands on a branch, sending a pink cloud of cherry blossoms floating down.
Nor can I tell you how it is, to hear the lunchtime siren at the factory just beyond the starling and the trees, where the hiss and pounding of metal stops abruptly, and the workers take their lunches to the park.
I cannot tell you how it is, to encounter the joy of the child that sits on the back of his mother’s bicycle, pointing at the workers, and the bird, and the blossoms floating. Nor can I convey the joy of seeing the mother stop her bike and unfold a picnic with that child under the tree.
I can not say quite how it is, to have ridden here, wind rustling the hair, with feet-pedaling-power, along narrow streets past small homes, tiny factories, trees, gardens, humans, and nature’s myriad denizens, a scene that changes ever so slightly, every day.
Nor can I tell you by the three hands, what time it is when I sit here, under a tree, drawing this scene. But I can tell you, relative to my position, when the sun will set, or when it is about to start raining, and when to hop on the bike and pedal home before either of those events takes place.
We were both born as ecological beings, you and I. This can not be removed from us, but only brushed aside temporarily, by this, by that. We all have moments in our life, that tell us how this is.
And so I cannot tell you how it is, but I can say for certain that yes, you already know.
You and I, we just have to remember.
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