Greetings. A wet week, and still no frost. One year we made it through the entire winter with no frost. The garden loves this, but so do all the bugs who come to life early in the spring. Always yin and yang, positive and negative. I am sharing a poem that was read to a group of forest service employees by a park ranger. It was a workshop that I was also teaching in. Please read this to the end. i think you will find it illuminating. Don’t forget push hands this Saturday from 1 to 4 in the Studio.
Reincarnation by Wallace McCrae
What does reincarnation mean?
A cowpoke ast his friend.
His pal rerplied, It happens when
yer life has reached its end.
They comb yer hair, and wash yer neck,
And clean yer fingernails,
And lay you in a padded box
Away from life’s travails.
The box and you goes in a hole,
That’s been dug into the ground.
Reincarnation starts when
Yore planted ‘neath a mound.
Them clods melt down, just like yer box,
And you who is inside.
And then yore just beginnin’ on
Yer transformation ride.
In a while the grass’ll grow
Upon yer rendered mound.
Till some day on yer moldered grave
A lonely flower is found.
And say a hoss should wander by
And graze upon this flower
That once wuz you, but now’s become
Yer vegetative bower.
The posey that the hoss done ate
Up, with his other feed,
Makes bone, and fat, and muscle
Essential to the steed.
But some is left that he can’t use
And so it passes through,
And finally lays upon the ground,
This thing, that once was you.
Then say, by chance, I wanders by
And sees this upon the ground,
And I ponders, and I wonders at,
This object that I found.
I thinks of reincarnation,
Of life and death, and such,
And come away concludin’: Slim,
You ain’t changed, all that much.