Notes

        You have been incognito for a few days. A trip to Westerville on Thursday and from there a trip on up to Cleveland until tonight as you are now home.

         Not a very good word here, Amorella; incognito. I have had my identity the whole time, however my whereabouts were not disclosed until now.

         Does this statement ring a bell?

         Without much imagination, I come up with one concept first. “I have had my identity the whole time, however the whereabouts of my mind are not always disclosed to me.”  I have had such a series of random-like thoughts these last couple of days, or so I think, however, since they are indeed my own thoughts they are not at all random.

         If I were not moving about in selections of Earth environment I would perhaps be a steady thinker. Were a tree to have a mind how much easier to reflect – savoring sunlight at one end and mother earth on the other – sucking it all in, so to speak, one might become a tall and rough-barked synagogue or monastery of thought. A wooden head would have quite a different meaning. Barring natural disasters one might live four or five hundred years, or even a couple of thousand, and spend it mostly in contemplation of a rather stiff and yet at the same time bendable constitution. What would be the metaphysics if one were treed in form and function with thoughtful consciousness added? To worship sun and mother earth, how much difference is there? Oak or maple or elm, the sun and earth are the same – it comes down to the territory where one is rooted I suppose. Who has the higher trunk and broader limbs, and who has the deeper roots. Who would the sun and mother earth love the most? Is water, its lack or plenty, the measure of spiritual love? Liquid, a precious treasure – does a tree pray for such a thing for itself and not for its fellows?  

         You stop?

         I get carried away with such thoughts.

         At least tonight you can remember them as they are indeed written out.

         Why indeed do I get caught up in such nearly mindless speculation? Trees do not have such moral issues. One does what one can from where it stands. A tree can do no other but grow up only to later fall down. Necessity, not Grace. Unlike the tree human beings look for purpose more than necessity. Time for me to shut up even in the quiet of the page. I have no horn to toot in any case. A case of mistaken drama, theatre boards to be walked upon.

         Tomorrow perhaps you will see form in this. Better to build a theatre than a gallows, old man. Post. – Amorella.