It is not true for one minute that plants live for earth, for sun, for wind, for rain, or tremble before the far-off ravaging fire, lightning, storm or flood. They live only for the flower which has existed in them since birth. In vain we wait for sap to tell its truth, for life itself to divulge its secrets. Its sole aim, its only goal, is to make itself an image of the truth it was born with. To this extent earth, water, air and fire are only contributors to the purpose life has in mind; any attempt to make the four elements the cornerstone of either natural or moral philosophy will always come to nothing. They are only servants. The attempts to peer into the mysteries of nature by breaking it down into its component parts will simply yield more component parts, and still more, until we are left with a fractured mosaic of something which was once a grand image.
But even the grand image itself is nothing compared to what the plant knows when it feels the gentle wind stirring about it, the sun's low rays enkindling it with warmth, the tiny streams of water circulating around its roots, and the cold earth preserving it for spring. It gives itself completely to the flower which is to come. It cannot tell what it knows and we cannot ask it to do so. And that is why philosophy must bow to faith. It is why all rigid truths must give way to hope. And it is the reason why all creation springs up for love alone. Faith, hope and love - but the greatest of these is love:
Through the shining patina on the stones I come,
thirsty as a pilgrim for what seeps and stills,
to where the silent sap conceals its will.
There beside a fountain of rest I wait
for sap to share its mind and heart with me.
Instead I hear tales of ancient pine,
of springing boughs of fir, and long, in God's name,
for the flower which will winter on that tree.
Jay
© landar 2011. All rights reserved
Author: Jay Landar
Source: www.pagelight.blogspot.com
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