Immersion
| I sit in my room surrounded by information:
books, magazines, newspapers, recordings, pictures. And by access to information: radio,
TV, internet. I spend most of my day immersed in that information, or sleeping to refresh myself for further immersion. I swim well enough in that pool of information that I get paid for reacting to it and manipulating it. I look out the window at an infinity of information. In the near distance, my little Zen weed garden growing its heart out. In the middle distance, a patio weighed down by blooming and non-blooming potted plants, a fence almost sagging under a mantle of green vines. Under a canopy of shrubs and trees, small and large: mimosa, yaupon, crepe myrtle, juniper, cypress, water oak, pecan. With flashes of movement: a jay, a cardinal, a mockingbird, a bee, a butterfly, a hummingbird, a squirrel. At the moment of awakening (which may or may not happen) and at the moment of death (which will surely happen), what will seem more vital, more necessary, more nourishing: the Goldberg Variations, Las Meninas, Spinoza, Tolstoi, or the morning track of a snail across my window? Back to Saltlick Contents |