A POEM AND SUNFLOWERS

Let me start today with a poem by Wordsworth


UP! up! my Friend, and quit your books;

Or surely you’ll grow double:

Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;

Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun, above the mountain’s head,

A freshening lustre mellow

Through all the long green fields has spread,

His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! ’tis a dull and endless strife:

Come, hear the woodland linnet,

How sweet his music! on my life,

There’s more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!

He, too, is no mean preacher:

Come forth into the light of things,

Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,

Our minds and hearts to bless–

Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health,

Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood

May teach you more of man,

Of moral evil and of good,

Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;

Our meddling intellect

Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:–

We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;

Close up those barren leaves;

Come forth, and bring with you a heart

That watches and receives.

1798.

Reflecting as I often do on the lessons of nature I considered last night the glorious sun that sits up there every day giving abundantly to the Earth, when clouds do not obscure it.

Then I thought of the sunflower and realized something quite forgotten in the past.

In Spanish the “sunflower” is called a “Gyrasol” which really means “gyro with the sun”. And that is precisely what the sunflower does. As the sun moves, that glorious yellow flower lets its head follow the sun.

It’s movements are not perceptible, but slowly and surely it moves.

Now I think about that I realized that the human creature doesn’t follow the sun, except to flow like ants to the beach in summer with their beach unbrellas, radios and the like that they can’t leave behind.

Right, we don’t follow or attend to anything except with our stained brain, and so we never really blend with nature. When they do decide to go to the country it is to avoid the city not meld with nature, so they byuild their little country homes with a few trees, grass, a sprinkler or two and place everything inside that  big expensive brick s******** that thay had in the city.

Perhaps one day a few, more liberated souls will co for a month or so in the country with just a pup tent and a compass, going nowhere in particular allowing nature to tell him or her where to go.

With luck they will never return to their little square houses, in their little square city, with their little square jobs,  inflating their little square minds with the false American dream.


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