Yarn

I had a dream recently; one that got me to thinking.

I was sitting on a log by a river, having walked through some woods on a paved path. I looked out at the water and the trees, with the structures and the noise of a city in the background. If I looked out at where the tops of the trees met the sky, I could watch them breathe -- that is to say, they shimmered, rhythmically, expanding and contracting. They breathed not as a group of individuals but as a communal entity; I suppose then I should say that it breathed; more appropriately: she.

I felt judged by the trees, and negatively too, though I felt neither guilt nor shame; without shifting any blame I felt blameless; it wasn't accusation, just observation. Although quite conscious of being a specific individual, "I" referred not only to myself but to people in general; not as a representative but as a specific iteration.

The idea of a paved path seemed passively offensive; obscene and unnecessary. I explained without defending (to the tree/trees, I suppose), "We're on our way," and paused, uncertain now, "...right?" It appeared that we--

(which isn't to say apes, necessarily; bipedal apes might quite fit in to this planet, whose trees are the lungs and whose roots are the brain; "I" however felt quite alien to this place, like a house guest who's been trodding his muddy shoes on the carpet)

--had something that we were doing, something we'd get done then take off from here, but that "I" had lost sight of and couldn't quite remember. Space travel comes to mind. But that's probably just because my imagination is limited to science fiction. I felt that I was offensive, but didn't quite need to apologize; I sat on the log and looked out toward the water, and watched a branch grow.

It moved very slowly, but neither linearly nor constantly. Rather it stretched (and not just the tip; various parts of it, linkedly but not symmetrically) and shrank in a pattern that seemed random. The subtlety of its tiny, tempered movements were awestriking. I wouldn't doubt that my mouth was wide open.

I certainly feel more comfortable when there are trees around, and the greater the grouping of trees the better; but that doesn't mean that I'm not creeped out by them; and certainly I can no longer assume that they are, by default, cool with me.

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On a totally unrelated note (which is to say: find a link btwn these and Ram Dass will give you a prize), I made a little green desktop wallpaper with The GiMP that I've been enjoying. Maybe you're interested: