No. Not really. It’s just something I do. I enjoy it. Maybe you will enjoy it, too. Have fun watching, if you can. If you can’t, tune in later. Things are bound to change.
Someday, perhaps, everyone will be doing this. Robots will be doing the work and artificial intelligence will be running everything else. What will we be doing? Enjoying beauty? A revival of art? Creative self expression? Is this our most human trait?
Why a leaf? Why not? First, a leaf is not flat. Flat is not very natural. Flat is man made. In nature flat is the surface of a pond without a ripple of wind. Insubstantial, temporary. A flat stone perhaps but, heavy, unmoving, unchanging. The flat wall of a cave, in darkness and shadows, cut off from the light. But, a leaf glows. A leaf was alive and life is not flat. Life is three-dimensional. Two dimensions is an illusion. Life is full of angles, sides, contours and light. A fallen leaf has been full of life, has had experiences, dreams and emotions, thoughts and desires. A fallen leaf is on the way out. It won’t be around for much longer, but then, who will? Is art meant to be permanent? Is it really about right now? Is it a longing for yesterday? Is it a longing for tomorrow? Is it a reminder to celebrate the continuity of the patterns and force fields of butterflies and flowers? You figure it out.
I have recently been involved in a serious discussion with the Frogs, who believe their mother is the night and their fathers are the constellations, regarding their considerations of the impossible versus the improbable. We do not agree.
My personal opinion is that surrealism lies outside of reality, absurdity lies within reality but outside of logic (such as the existence of mules or placebos) and insanity lies opposite to, or on the contradictory side of, reality.
The opinion of the Frogs is that everything is reality, absurdity is inevitable and is the natural outcome of total awareness due to the nature of quantum leaps, warps and worm holes, force fields, perceptions, connections, reincarnations, explanations and adaptations to the convoluted evolution of the expanding universe and insanity is the inevitable result of inventing too many words (such as incomprehensible, incongruous, irrational, irreconcilable, irresponsible, irrepressible, inconceivable, unbelievable, unpredictable, irregular, irrelevant, irreverent and nonsensical).
The painted forest is still this morning
Involved in dreams of atoms and energy
And, acorns choosing a home in the quiet earth
While the squirrels, awaiting their decisions
Watch their reflections in the clouds
Wondering why swollen seed pods have fallen
With the brittle and discarded twigs
Into fairy rings of golden mushrooms
In the same patterns as this morning’s tea leaves
Wondering why the bits of broken mirror
And, the stones the color of the sky
Have been carried off by crows
To the place where the dream of the forest goes
To the place where the golden mushroom grows
So, tell me a secret, painted forest
Tell me something no one knows
Tell me why the seed pods fall
Tell me where the echo goes
Tell me why the dew drops fade
Tell me why the white cloud grows
Tell me what the squirrels are thinking
Tell me what the acorns chose
Tell me, tell me, painted forest
Tell me something no one knows
Tell me what the tea leaves say
Tell me what the pattern shows
And, tell me, tell me, painted forest
Why the wind no longer blows
Once I knew three songbirds. The songbirds knew no words. But, the first bird, though he could not say, was sure he did not want to stay and so, instead, he flew away, and he married a jello giraffe.
The second bird thought this was funny. When she saw them together she’s laugh. On the back porch she’d rock when she mended her sock and, she’d chuckle and smirk for a hour and a half.
Now, sure was the third bird they certainly were absurd and, sure they were really quite daft, then she shocked the whole staff and the other riff raff, when she waved us adieu and, flew off to the zoo, with the son of the checkerboard calf.