send words my way
Today my boss told me to go for a long drive in my break and it was weird but it’s something my dad would say so I went. And I went to. A lookout and you could see the entire valley. And I went on this skinny winding dirt road and i was amazed how green it is at the moment. And then I stopped in Bethany at this little reserve spot and I’m going to take my friends there for a picnic one day. And he said that I’d understand why he told me to go after I go to Europe. ‘Know where you live’. It was one of those moments where someone does/says something really odd and infinitely wise.
Hey :) My Grand-grand Pa helped plant these trees! (in your last image).
We have a family reunion there, often Annually.
This is partly why I am into native revegetation (though with more diverse species)… The hope that someone will stumble upon and find solace there. Or just adopt and include these places as part of their existence. I guess the other part, is not being ignorant to the reality that the birds, whom make my day livable… actually do need somewhere to live. Just because they can cope, survive and hold on… doesn’t mean they are happy or healthy. Like those that ‘craw’ now (no longer sing), after wars and humanities’ self-loathing torment/conflict.
I watch the little-pocket families of grass parrots, wrens and other specialized birds (not omnivores)… but also the fickle strip of roadside plants… On the way into the Flinders region. It is daunting to realize they cling onto sometimes only one or two trees. What is their future? Where are they going? Maybe we share the same destiny. Even if we don’t respect territories like they do and travel further than our home… But maybe we share this same neglected potential and possibility.
Let exist in the cracks of staggered, thorough, perfectionism… These roadside shrubs, likely sprung up after the great clearing… and being crown-land… with nobody caring enough to order their removal… everyone else, too scared to do anything without the moral void of calling “it’s just my job, i'm just doing my job”, “it's my land, it's none of your business”, “someone else will destroy it anyway, lets make a reward for that!”, “you must volunteer to do good, because we cannot pay you with what we don’t have — compassion and kindness” — they exist and the ones’ that survive another night sleep, chirrup the chilling fate away. Bare to the threat of an apex predatory terror, people have also let exist, with a wanton neglect. Aftermath of a whimsical doting; the other form of animal domination. Feral cats.
Humans allow the most common of things to exist, in fear of being anything greater. Seaguls, pigeons, rats, crows, feral cats, mosquitos… not many animals are comfortible around us. You can assume the ones’ we’re responsible for creating and incubating, are — the one’s that would puke on our face or birthday cake… Flies. Then the domestic animals that exist only to serve and feed us the energy of the land, often used to dismantle all that makes our homeostasis (health) and natures’ equilibrium (well being) — synchronicitly coexistant.
But no… most Humans only recognize Intelligence as a coincidental compliment to their own species/self. Within the commonest of things, the pest and domestic animals that have anthropomorphized with us animals… shared emotions with, subjected to the same pathos, like feeling their fear (the wolves were demonized — by anti-association to something wild and non-domestic, preying on what we cage into being economical, stock). Intelligence, recognized by the artful cunning.. or just the ability to chew through something man-made (plastic, like artificial and GMO food). But does anyone look at a Blue Wren or a Grass Parrot and say ‘That’s intelligent!’. No. They say the only thing they can’t say about themselves “That’s Beautiful!”.
Being yourself and wearing your ingenuity, looks pretty intelligent to me.
Just not whilst the commonest of things are on the migratory stampede of fear and self-loathing.
That’s another way in which trees are good… they don’t need to say much for you to get the picture — all they need do is grow… as they make the picture, perfectly inhabitable. Even if we live elsewhere, our minds and emotions, need places to visit too. Wild things to admire from a distance.
Instead — city living is the pace of anxiety. Emotions are symptoms of a syndrome… having one’s own ideas and thoughts is an illness of the conditional treatment of afflicted empathy for such things… as the wild.