All Terrain
Two Saturdays ago terrain was a heavy metal band called Terrain, a very heavy metal band called Terrain. These were boys (men) from Lennon's in Upper Darby, PA. They were performing at the Rusty Nail in Havertown, PA. The landscape of their sound, though quite loud and dramatic, was varied and interesting to me.
Three days later it was a change of terrain via flight to Manchester, NH, and then the smooth terrain of the paved path to a geological feature called the Basin. That was a Tuesday.
Two days later terrain meant the terrain of new people and a seat at their Thanksgiving Dinner table. Today I realised that I am suffering from post traumatic shock in the form of a latent desire for more stuffing- more stuffing now and more stuffing soon after I finish the helping of stuffing I haven't even got in front of me. I'm told that by Christmas Day I will have the opportunity for more stuffing.
Since that most excellent Thanksgiving meal terrain has been other things also.
It has been dreamscape. It has been the terrain of images and moods which are the dreams I remember after waking. It has been the textures and metaphors of dreams described to me by some one close.
And then their are the dreams which are plans made but not yet met. Things in the future, goals, things made of hope and vision. Is this terrain the scape of fantasy or calendar or is there a such thing as a pragmatism which dreams but also approaches those real things of which the dreams are pre-thought reflections? I have been making plans toward the next year or so for a few months now, but I am at this point within the terrain where once future plans are present behaviors and actions.
I am in the terrain of the Mount Washington Valley. I am in hope. I am in creativity and I am in nurturing and kindness and like-mindedness and goodness and growth.
I am not in Minnesota at the antFarm where the terrain is quite similar to the heart and soul but somewhat different to the eye. I am not back home in East Lansdowne from where all things for me have come, from where I have embarked out onto the terrain of my existence. What I am not is not, yet still it is. It all is, for I am here where I am and all those things which I have seen and felt and done and desired are me and I am grounded in and flying above this terrain which is my me.
Three days later it was a change of terrain via flight to Manchester, NH, and then the smooth terrain of the paved path to a geological feature called the Basin. That was a Tuesday.
Two days later terrain meant the terrain of new people and a seat at their Thanksgiving Dinner table. Today I realised that I am suffering from post traumatic shock in the form of a latent desire for more stuffing- more stuffing now and more stuffing soon after I finish the helping of stuffing I haven't even got in front of me. I'm told that by Christmas Day I will have the opportunity for more stuffing.
Since that most excellent Thanksgiving meal terrain has been other things also.
It has been dreamscape. It has been the terrain of images and moods which are the dreams I remember after waking. It has been the textures and metaphors of dreams described to me by some one close.
And then their are the dreams which are plans made but not yet met. Things in the future, goals, things made of hope and vision. Is this terrain the scape of fantasy or calendar or is there a such thing as a pragmatism which dreams but also approaches those real things of which the dreams are pre-thought reflections? I have been making plans toward the next year or so for a few months now, but I am at this point within the terrain where once future plans are present behaviors and actions.
I am in the terrain of the Mount Washington Valley. I am in hope. I am in creativity and I am in nurturing and kindness and like-mindedness and goodness and growth.
I am not in Minnesota at the antFarm where the terrain is quite similar to the heart and soul but somewhat different to the eye. I am not back home in East Lansdowne from where all things for me have come, from where I have embarked out onto the terrain of my existence. What I am not is not, yet still it is. It all is, for I am here where I am and all those things which I have seen and felt and done and desired are me and I am grounded in and flying above this terrain which is my me.
posted by Sean at 6:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home