It is the season of dandelions. When I used to work for Tuttle there were two separate building in which I worked. I spent a lot of time walking from one building to another. One time, about this time of year, I was walking over to production and a dandelion puff caught my eye. For some reason I stopped and gave it a close look. It was truly an amazing design, full of beauty and functionality.
While I was looking it over, a co-worker came by. I said to her, "Debbie, take a look at this!" She said, "Yeah, my lawn is full of them. I need to mow the lawn on Saturday."
One of the things I've learned over the past 13 years of writing this journal/blog, is that we see the world through the prism of "self." When we can let go of this perspective, the world is transformed. Things are just what they are. This is the message that Wallace Stevens is getting at in his poem The Snowman.
While I was looking it over, a co-worker came by. I said to her, "Debbie, take a look at this!" She said, "Yeah, my lawn is full of them. I need to mow the lawn on Saturday."
One of the things I've learned over the past 13 years of writing this journal/blog, is that we see the world through the prism of "self." When we can let go of this perspective, the world is transformed. Things are just what they are. This is the message that Wallace Stevens is getting at in his poem The Snowman.
For the listener who listens in the snow
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there, and the nothing that is.
In Vermont, the seasons quickly arrive and just as quickly fall away. We are in the midst of dandelion season right now. They are so common, humble, ordinary. Fields are filled with them in the millions.
If we take the time to look, however, we can observe that the ordinary often manifests a beauty and genius of design that is astonishing. To paraphrase the observation of the writer, John Kahle, art in the natural world is worth noting because the artist is inside the art. Amen.
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