Friday, October 31, 2014


Ah, Grasshopper. . .

our modern world lacks patience,
particularly as our electronics cater to the moment,
a few seconds of wait on the computer
can feel interminable:
each click should spell whatever next we want,

watch the stars at night,
at first it’s a static snapshot,
the wheels of star and Moon and Sun
turn so slowly that we move on
before we notice the movement of that slow unveiling,

at the dawning of a new day
I work to be there and to feel the wholeness of the transformation,
we’re usually told that 
when the sun actually rises above the horizon 
is the time of sunrise,
as if the climax is all to care about,
I like to get out on the east shoulder of the mountain in the dark
and appreciate black velvet pinpricked by brilliant stars,
I love the patient transformation of black to blued gray to rose,
as if a play unfolds before us 
with differentiation slow and steady as shape and color
softly release back into perception,

plants also teach the rewards and pains of moments in the future
the present only hints at being able to reach,
particularly trees who can readily live across generations,

I planted chestnut trees about 50 years ago
and now they stand tall and bountiful,
treating the bears who find them in September,

I work at meditation every day,
and one of the first effects on me of smelling its roses,
was I was less reactive, less quick in response 
to the mosquito-like aggravation of the moment,
less obvious is a deep rewiring of me
within grand traditions of others 
also within the great journey of spirit to be true to itself,

modernity’s tools can seduce us away 
from the very understanding
they seem to make so much easier to find,

Google gives us answers 
almost before we even ask the question,
and, yet, Grasshopper, 
what we need to know at our deepest self
is beyond any iMoment.

by Henry H. Walker
October 28, ’14

computer images courtesy of Google Images
sunrise pictures from Mt. LeConte, 8/14

No comments: