rainforest
Dear Ciara,
I was having a discussion with The Organist the other day, which stemmed from a conversation you and I had, about how events and things in our lives sometimes come to have symbolic and/or metaphorical meanings. The Organist mentioned that I had been referring to sea hibiscus a lot in both Dear Ciara and in our conversations, and I was hit with this force, this realisation that I have really come to associate moments in my life with plants. I’m not sure if this has always been the case, or if this is some spiritual response to living near the oldest rainforest in the world.
Reading back through Dear Ciara, it is clear that I love to write about the environment and that I see most of my experiences through the lens of the natural environment. Plants or other aspects of nature have come to be metaphorical/symbolic, or perhaps even spiritual, forces in my life.
I don’t think I am the only one like this. For instance, I’m currently reading Ancestors by Robyn Davidson, and there is this one passage that stirs some primal force in me. Let me share it with you:
Doesn’t that shake you to the core? It perfectly encapsulates what my new life feels like. To be living in the rainforest, to be shrouded in bright green, to be entangled in vines that clamber up every goddamn surface and cover you. I think Davidson experiences the world in a similar way that I do, and I would argue that so does Kate Llewellyn. They both shape meaning and gain understanding from the trumpet flowers that grow up the side of the garden shed, just like I do. I suppose that’s why I am drawn to their writing.
I’m sorry if what I am saying is nonsense. Perhaps I am searching too much for divine inspiration and understanding in something futile. Or maybe my desperate search of meaning is futile. Regardless, I am not articulating it all that well. What do you think?
The song for today is:
Snowblind - Ásgeir
This song is what winter nights feel like. Hopefully, it can keep you company on the balcony tonight.
Love,
The Gardener