Light the Fear

Protect Our Forests

Forests are important because they are the cradle that nurtured us when we first evolved from the seas, dark and foreboding at first, warm and supportive once entered, the nexus between all plants and animals, the meeting place of more than just minds, but also of bodies and life energies entwined, enveloping entropy evolving ever onward towards our great what's next. 

Forests are our community square, our childhood home and our retirement plan rolled into one, and forests deserve our gratitude, our appreciation and our dedicated effort to nurture and protect them as they once did for us.

Where Am I?

I push forward, damp vines like kelp drape towering blindscape columns of green and yellow all around me, waving in unison yet anchored from the heavens above, lowered to me long ago somewhere beyond my memory of what came before.

I push with my hands, recoiling at the odd texture, the slippery memory sliding around me like a capsule, a chrysalis, across my fingers through my prints, individual yet undividuated, simmering pregnant with smoldering intent just below my skin, just below my consciousness.

Consciousness, like a sharp echo in a white sterile room, a dry lick across my parched and swollen tongue.  No words.  No motion.  Just cold wet stickiness closing in like age slowly creeps up on youth to wrap us in wrinkles, right-of-ways and regrets for the road not taken.

I gather and displace, gather and displace, making my way towards something glowing through the fronds of hanging something surrounding and binding me, but not as like before.  Not before he came. 

Inspired beyond inspiration, I feel perspiration bead on my head, then role down the valley between my bands of muscle bracketing my spine, cradling my consciousness as represented here, as stored in the electro-chemical vehicle I pilot.  I steer off the road to refuel again?

Have I been here before?

Haven't we all?

I start the engine on my "machine" again, and I gun it back out into the forest, eyes burning towards the future, lips puckered in a whistle that blows before me, billowing the vines from my way, revealing a path worn by elders, tended by guides.

A giant frond slaps me in the face, getting through all my plans, chaos reminder that each breath a potential butterfly in Madagascar begetting a typhoon in the great Pacific.  In the spur of the moment I laugh at the unexpected.

Uncertainty, you are my friend now.

I know not where I am, but I have been here before.

And here we go again