Luxuriant Life In a Cracked World

I am keenly aware, here in Swamp City as compared to The Sticks, of certain differences in life’s luxuriance.

Kinda funny, since things were busy dying out there, while here in the Swamp, things are... well... busy.

The drought that is cracking The Republic into pieces was not merely visible to the naked eye in The Sticks. It was palpable. You could breathe in the lack of water. Every part of my body felt it, and so, I guess, did every part of my existence out there, at least for a time.

When I returned to live in the Swamp's barrio, I was impressed by the green. It's not like I wasn't from here, and I even came back at least monthly if not more often during my rocky savannah sabbatical. So I know how so many things are at a different point in the spectrum of life in Swamp City. I think more than anything, I was dismayed by what I perceive to be the cavalier attitudes of residents here. But how can anyone not blissfully take for granted the luxury in which they live? Aren’t we supposed to? Should we not?

It's a question that's haunted me -- followed me -- all of my life. Does compassion in action equate somehow to discounting or devaluing our own wealth? If we roll in the dough of our own making, are we necessarily keeping others from having bread to eat?

And just in time to save me from my own mind, a piece of green shoots up from the hardly tended soil, imported all the way from London, Texas, in my favorite terra cotta pot.


Thanks to The Editor's planting, we may have garlic in the spring.

Comments

[~ Jenn]

You are so col.
Is that little bitty bit of garlic going to grace a future meal of the month?
Hmmmm?

[TPK Bodhisattva, of course]

Sure hope so!