I was cutting the grass.
And in the back, across from the garage, is a gargantuan tree. I say gargantuan because it’s a residential neighborhood and it’s one of the tallest trees around. It may be the tallest tree around.
Between the garage and the tree, the roots of the tree bubble up through the ground.
I feel bad knowing the lawn mower hits it. We even put more dirt out there to make the ground flush, and cover the roots. But the roots seem to have a mind of their own and have a desire to see sunlight.
While cutting the grass I again noticed the spot where the blade of the mower, and the elements of the weather, have worn part of the tree’s foundation smooth. Scarred it. Deformed it from it’s natural state.
I wondered, and feared a little, if the root gets cut-could that eventually lead to the downfall of the tree? Could a disease or a creature infiltrate it’s inner core because of the cut I, or mother nature, inflicted upon it. And destroy it from within. Because I….let it in. Could I be a cause for the downfall of this beautiful, gargantuan, tree.
Then I likened that tree to me.
I thought about the things in life that cut or scar me.
I thought about those who I have cut or scarred.
I thought about what those cuts may do, once something infiltrates a life, and works horrors inside. Even if the cut is healed and scarred.
I wanted to capture that thought. And all of the thoughts that followed.
And the process of how cutting the grass, seeing the root of the tree, and having the freedom to move from thought to thought to thought…. is mine.
While I cut the grass no one could see anything but me in my fake tan legs, my grey shorts and orange t-shirt and headphones, sweating and cutting the grass. But while I cut the grass my mind was on fire. It raced. It produced feelings. It was a kaleidoscope of images of life events, both real and imagined. I was charging through such visions and contemplations that the whirring lawn mower blade couldn’t begin to compete or keep up.
And from there, I wrote. I drew. I created something that once I read it, will always take me back to the moment I was cutting the grass and saw that root.
One thought led to another and something completely different than my original thought was born.
But my original thought still exists. It still matters. I come back to it. I always will.
And when I do I will wonder about the complexities and freedoms of our thoughts and our existence.
And I will remember I was alive. I was so alive. Because my passion was set ablaze.
The world will remember me.
This good old tree root inspired me.
I just wanted to give it credit.
And thank it.
(It inspired a post from earlier this week. And this, is how I got from cutting the grass to that post.)