looking into the quiet white night full of fragrances, looking at the wild-roses, i think.
i think of plants. and i think in rhetorical questions.
the worshippers of progress write in their books that plants are primitive. they do not move, and they do not talk, or do any of the things the ‘sophisticated’ or ‘advanced’ organisms do. and this makes me ask questions.
like, have the hardcore darwinists, and the hardcore creationists both given it a thought, that both their theories can exist only in a linear, judeo-christian universe? in a universe where the future holds the ‘promised land’, the ‘heaven’, the ‘more progressive’? and that in those terms, it does not matter which of the theories win, because essentially, originally, they are the same: a theory of evolution, from the simplest to the less simple, to the ‘crown of all beings’ – the human.
but there is one thing both of the above do not realise. the ultimate progress of life is death. and being complex does simplify this: the more complex an organism is, the faster it dies.
and this brings me back to the plants. to the life forms that take the inorganic, the water, and the minerals in the water, and the carbon dioxide from the air, and sunlight, and miraculously turn that into the living, organic, fragrant, talking, beautiful, safe, dangerous, relaxing, saving, neverending, lasting, sustainable, fantastic life we see every day.
and when they say, accusingly, ‘and you are talking to the trees’, i sometimes want to say – ‘yes. and the grasses, and shrubs, and potted plants, and whatever other miracles i find on my path’. because miracles can be simple, but they are never primitive.
think of four hundred years of life, all in a sigle oak. which human can measure that?