Man Against Nature
There are Squirrels in my yard that are pulling up the plants that I just planted, and burying their acorns in the pots of soft dirt where once stood a small rhubarb and potential Ginkgos and nut pines. I’ve caged it all, but somehow these little buggers get in and wreak havoc on my hard work . . .
Sometimes I feel at war.
The collection of posts that follow (this is one of four) is an answer of sorts to a post that I made a while back on rain and the fact that their aren’t enough people that enjoy it. In that post, I begrudged the fact that so many times people would rather protect themselves from the elements than experience them. This is my counterpoint to that point, because there are times when I understand this desire to protect oneself from the natural world. There are times when all of nature seems against us.
Three philosophers inspire me to write this: one is Soren Kierkegaard who took great lengths many times in print to argue against his own philosophy (so I am arguing against myself, although returning to a similar conclusion). The second is Nietzsche who addressing Stoics in his midst said something like: “Oh you noble Stoics, you think nature is all flowers and songbirds, but you forget the fangs, the cruelty, the disregard for life, the brutality of the natural.” And the third is my mother-in-law who has reminded me in times past that just because something is natural doesn’t make it necessarily good for me. “Even Poison Ivy is natural.”
With this in mind, an additional title to this collection of posts could be phrased . . .
How can something so extraordinarily beautiful . . .
cause so much destruction . . .
Or in the words of the haiku master Issa, why is it that:
If you are tender to them,
The young sparrows
Will poop on you. (?)
(Next up: Frosbitten Twice Shy Babe)