Five minutes to free write on one word...
So pretty much everyone has these memories of trees. Christmas trees. The old tree in the front yard they used to climb as a child. Some tree memory. One of mine is reclining in the tire swing under our old oak tree in my parents' yard. Peaceful winter (we're from South Texas) afternoons enjoying the cool weather.
There's this other picture that comes to mind though. I remember in elementary school learning about Mt. St. Helens. The teacher showed us this picture of the destruction and I just remember this aerial shot of downed trees that looked like a few games of pick up sticks spilled all over.
She played it last night in her recital. That Chopin Scherzo. And it hit me somewhere between the unsettling introduction and the brooding chords broken up by flowing arpeggios... Scherzo is supposed to mean joke. But it sure doesn't sound like one. And isn't that life some days? Especially in the same week that we hear about thousands dead in a storm in the Philippines? Doesn't life sometimes feel like some cruel joke? Doesn't it feel like somebody said we could have joy, we could smile, and then started playing life unsettled and brooding? But then... oh, but then there are the arpeggios and there is Light and there is the Presence. And there is being held.