Thursday, March 29, 2007

Dogwoods Unfolding






What a great season, SPRING, is here! Snapped a few pictures for no particular reason this evening.

At first glance, the mint and onion seemed incongruous, but then I remembered taboulli, harmonizing allium and mentha. And there are other ways, too:

Rice with Carrot, Lemon, Onion and Mint

Spring’s springing brings to mind the lines from Dylan Thomas:

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The whole poem is a rewarding experience when read aloud, though I’d forgotten how disturbing it really is. (Hearing Thomas read the poem himself is to hear a sonorous tumble of words.) Well enough. Moving along, here's another take from Henri Nouwen:

"[There is] a time for mourning, a time for dancing" (Ecclesiastes 3:4). But mourning and dancing are never fully separated. Their "times" do not necessarily follow each other. In fact, their "times" may become one "time." Mourning may turn into dancing and dancing into mourning without showing a clear point where one ends and the other starts.

Often our grief allows us to choreograph our dance while our dance creates the space for our grief. We lose a beloved friend, and in the midst of our tears we discover an unknown joy. We celebrate a success, and in the midst of the party we feel deep sadness. Mourning and dancing, grief and laughter, sadness and gladness - they belong together as the sad-faced clown and the happy-faced clown, who make us both cry and laugh. Let's trust that the beauty of our lives becomes visible where mourning and dancing touch each other.

Onions and mint, green age and wintry fever, mourning and dancing…it's a crazy, mixed-up existence on this planet.

No comments: