You Grow Down in the Ground
By Charles Dickey at Mar 15, 2008
Apples grow on trees, insects tend weeds and leaves, clouds make rain, people talk through problems. In
Life could be
lusting in the morning
babies blooming into individual genius
self-supporting forests and marshes recycling biology
consistent change, radically free
slopes of wildflower mountainsides lush with bears, bees, horses, people
rain shadows and canopies in the rainforest
roots, pebbles, algae, bacteria alive and filtering water to drinking clean
sun rising and setting on interdependent villages of brilliance
Life could be
blissful and sustained
spiritually and physically nurturing
burgeoning in beauty, divergent and prolific
supported and encouraged in compassionate communities
Instead of chasing cybernetic dreams of the post-human future, why don't we give ourselves a fiesta? Instead of unceasing striving, we should take regular siestas. No more attempts to toxically reproduce the inner engine of the sun here on a planet orbiting the sun. Why not relax and enjoy the gift of the sun? Naturally, growth proliferates. We don't need to hasten death with fanciful cancerous mutations.
Students, close your textbooks. Open your hearts. All sorts of chittering, clambering, curiously laughing creatures are looking right back at you. Sanguine, sage, slightly shy; hilarious, amazed, exuberant, and lush, they welcome you to neglected territories. Look at all the luxuriant tangles! Marbled sunlight swirls, psychedelic heartbeats whispering under the everyday mania of thoughts. Who hears? The eyewitness of self hovers subtly on gentle Earth winds stirring. How could I have neglected these wondering grassroots for decades? Lakes, oceans, liquid spaces of permeable possibilities wait, wavering, shimmering, fluctuating in a net that catches nothing. It all streams so easily. My hands and eyes are wet, my mouth full of water, belly full. Satiated, there is no need to sleep or speak. Just see. Look at all the recurrent existence and how, after all suffering, it joyously persists.
Here, there is no room for shrieks. The dying come home more free, restored, whole. Any anger that lingers is transmuted to more joy. There will be no heroic violent retribution, no vengeful rescue from above. Still, the roots grow. Consciousness roots up from below.