This is the chestnut oak to the south of my house. You may see it often in my writings, as I see it often in my days. In this shot, it stands tall and strong, but also reaching out to communicate. And unnoticed in this photo but crucial are the roots that sustain it and the interior channels through which nourishment flows.
Sometimes I catch myself thinking of growth, development, as accumulation: more knowledge, more techniques, rather than being, circulating, exchanging. The tree reminds me. Planted on a huge boulder, the tree grows as it does in response to its environment and available resources. It keeps being what it is, keeps drawing in sustenance, spreading its branches, and sending out oxygen for the benefit of those of us who breathe.
I too depend on my surroundings: food, air, impressions. These pass through me and maintain my life and well-being. And sometimes the nourishment abides, fundamentally changes who I am, what I am capable of. What is that invisible process that forms new interior organizations capable of sustaining further levels of search?
Place presents the occasion to repeat, meaningfully.
How am I, today? resonates with the today of the chestnut oak, the sky, the others who cross my path. As answers take shape amid the flux, I try to witness, to acknowledge, to applaud, even, in joy, but not in solidifying congratulations. I honor the appearances and their passing. And I try to honor that which provides our capacity to wonder, to honor, to let be.
World, World—"
The self is no mystery, the mystery is That there is something for us to stand on. We want to be here. The act of being, the act of being More than oneself. Collected Poems, George Oppen, (New York, New Directions 2002), 159.
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