Trees are not only trees: they pretend to be trees. They know I am used to seeing and thinking of them as trees, and are kind enough to act accordingly. At the same time, like me, they are what they are by virtue of a process that disperses and combines everything in the universe to arrive at something familiar, yet always original and new. And so now, in effect, it is their turn to be trees, and mine to be human. Someday we may be rocks or dragonflies, lichens or moss; aromatic earth or particles adrift in the farthest reaches of space. We are large. We contain multitudes. As individuals we are here today and gone tomorrow. As part of everything else, we have been here since the beginning, and will be until the end. And we will always be each other — you the saint, I the criminal; you the wise one, I the fool.
October 15, 2021
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