The Art of Letting Go

Is it possible the mystery seedling in our vast little wilderness has yet to decide what kind of tree it is? That’s something I haven’t thought of before. Even if it began its life as a silk tree, maybe its desire to change is so strong that, given time, and possibly even encouragement, it will become something else. Who knows what it might have thought about or dreamed about during its flight here, after saying good-bye to its mother? Who knows what questions it might have asked itself, and might still be asking? Identity is a complicated thing. For instance, who’s to say that a silk tree can’t be a silk tree its entire life, certain all the while that it is isn’t a silk tree? If humans in all their glory can create this kind of subtle confusion for themselves, then why not plants? Or shouldn’t I expect plants to exhibit that kind of intelligence?

August 5, 2020

The Art of Letting Go

Remember, the art of letting go,
is in letting go of the art.

Or, as a child might say,
were there any need,

Love is free, work is play,
and there is nothing but this day.

And suffering?

Is suffering, as much as any thing,
not that to which we cling?

And if not, what of identity?

Can I be free,
and still, be me?

Both ripe fruit fallen, and the tree?

Recently Banned Literature, August 20, 2014

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