Tuesday, April 04, 2006
"Once in the Forest," and How We Perceive Others
I have in recent years developed a new way of looking at others. I no longer see them as fixed beings, frozen at a certain moment in time, but rather as fluid entities, moving steadily through their life stages, constantly changing. When I see a young person, I visualize them as they will be in future, as they move into new phases of their existence. And with older folk, I imagine what they were like in earlier life, what their appearance and talents were before. For, in truth, these earlier or later "incarnations" are as much "who they are" as the present manifestation.
And as for me, I do not think of myself as being of a particular age, but rather as "myself" moving through a particular decade or stage.
Here is a little poem I wrote recently on a related theme. I suspect that many of us have prized souvenirs or tokens of some earlier time in our lives, which we continue to treasure as important symbols of our total existence.
Once in the Forest
Once in the forest
I stopped to gather
a handful of moss
which had caught my eye.
O, how it glistened
with its sumptuous
reds and greens,
its streaked yellows and browns.
This silken treasure became
my constant companion,
traveling with me
everywhere,
my anchor, my deep joy,
my sustaining emblem
until its luster dimmed
and faded,
like something left too long
in an attic,
a once gilded child’s toy
gone to rust,
no longer useful.
But it stays alongside me,
I still cling to
the remnants of its former glory,
the tattered elements
of its beginnings,
its rich obscurity.
It tells me who I am.
Dorothy Walters
March 29, 2006
And as for me, I do not think of myself as being of a particular age, but rather as "myself" moving through a particular decade or stage.
Here is a little poem I wrote recently on a related theme. I suspect that many of us have prized souvenirs or tokens of some earlier time in our lives, which we continue to treasure as important symbols of our total existence.
Once in the Forest
Once in the forest
I stopped to gather
a handful of moss
which had caught my eye.
O, how it glistened
with its sumptuous
reds and greens,
its streaked yellows and browns.
This silken treasure became
my constant companion,
traveling with me
everywhere,
my anchor, my deep joy,
my sustaining emblem
until its luster dimmed
and faded,
like something left too long
in an attic,
a once gilded child’s toy
gone to rust,
no longer useful.
But it stays alongside me,
I still cling to
the remnants of its former glory,
the tattered elements
of its beginnings,
its rich obscurity.
It tells me who I am.
Dorothy Walters
March 29, 2006
