Tiger Lilies

January 23, 2010 at 2:52 pm (Question: What do you care about?)

I walk among the tiger lilies, each so small and quaint, their gentle breath barley a whisper to my nose as I meander through the pond. Each among them perfect in their own right. I have learned to care about the small things, about the intangibles that are forever drifting in and out of our subconscious mind. I have learned to care about the colors the sun makes on the waters of the ocean, and the sound the breeze makes as it passes by the flags at the marina. These are the little things in life that one must find beauty in. Or maybe not, maybe it is but my own obsession with the collide-e-scope of smells, colors and textures that world offers me and you every day. Though it would seem to most that this is something less than the quality of importance that I have somewhat describe for you in the previous post, to me it is not. I have the heart of an artist and his brush is in my mind. Each day I see the beauty that surrounds us and take pause in the understanding that all of us are not so different than those tiger lilies that I have muddled my way through.

The pond waters move as my feet push into the soft underbelly of the shallow marsh. The bamboo straightens as I push it out of my way, and the field of lilies opens up before me in a cascade of purplish hues. This is magic; this is a stunning achievement of serenity buried behind the swamps of the low lands. The things I care about are out there, hidden behind trials and suffering, behind sweat and blood, but when the fog has been lifted and the path is exposed one is able to find the things that we hold most dear. I would like to tell you that the answer is much easier than I am making it out to be, and maybe it is. But, I am struggling, my feet are sinking into the roots of the very lilies that I am holding dear and I am unable to recognize what I am walking through.

 Maybe each of us is no different as well, to the tiger lily. Maybe we are but one little piece of a giant mosaic of purplish hues that are spread about haphazardly across a globe. Maybe it is those that cannot stop looking at the mud that they are walking through to notice the beauty of all of those that surround them. A much easier question was once asked of me, and I believe that I have found that answer, what would make one holy. The intangible knowledge that the person that you are dealing with has been elevated above and beyond our own human rational, to a status, for lack of a better word is holy. I have found it to be those that do not need help in seeing the beauty that exists inside each and every human being that walks the earth. Though I as well stick to the reality that to find these shinning lights of beauty one must first wade through the mud, to throw off self perception, lies and the horrible actions that people are willing to commit.

ereading the passage above I realize that though I have found some metaphysical journey upon which I use to answer the question, of what do you care about. Well, maybe I care about the journey. Maybe I care about pushing others to recognize the possibility of beauty in almost everything. That man in his glorious imperfections can be holy. This is what I care about; I care about those small moments. The moments when your boot is three inches into the mud of the Tigris river flats, and the weeds grow taller than you. Every step forward and you are assured that your boot will end up coming off and will be left in the flats. Then as you sweep your arms and the bamboo straightens out, the purplish hues fog your eyes. I pause, pull off my head sets and kneel into the mud, reaching out I grab a lily and bring it to my nose and breath deep. It is these moments that I live for….

Authors note: though this portion of the narrative did happen, when I did breath in, this particular lily (not a tiger) smelled like a dead animal with the light overture of gasoline. I am not sure that would bring wild plant life from this particular grove to my face again, I guess we all get smarter.


1 Comment

  1. 2010proust said,

    You obviously have a knack for seeing through the lens of a collid-e-scope (very clever). I don’t pair the beautiful language you use with the rough lover you described tonight. I guess there is a ying and a yang to everything.

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