Caveman would get up in the morning after a night of rain, step outside the cave, look to the sky. If the morning was cold, he would search for dry wood--something to eat--the things needed to keep his little self alive. But somewhere, way, way back in my memory, I have the image of him, looking at the perfectly sized drops of water, hanging from the thin branches of some trees ancestor. Clear, round balls of water, delicately balanced on thread like branches, the morning light making them appear to glow with an inner light. Making him stand, knowing he was in the presence of beauty. Real beauty. There is a comfort, you know, in seeing something beautiful, and knowing that it transcends time. That what is beautiful in our time, also made cavemen stop in their tracks, marvel at what a wonder nature is,, what a marvel is this beautiful world. In knowing that people everywhere, throughout time, have seen, appreciated, and enriched their experience of living on this earth. A comfort in knowing that once the belly is filled, that we humans have always had a need to satisfy the hunger in our soul. It is a basic need.
Posted on: Mon, 10 Mar 2014 16:45:23 +0000
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