Sunday, April 11, 2010

Fine Picnicery

Here in M-town we have been graced with two days so charged with pleasaunce and so balanced in their loveliness that I have realized just how jealous are the senses in a man who thinks too much, as everyone has always told me I do. As I lay sprawled on a picnic blanket under an oak in our Memphis Botanic Garden, there were moments when I genuinely felt a sweet pricking of choice: ought I to stay and see what these leaves will decant from the light of the sun, or ought I rise and taste of the fruit the earth has yeilded? Or ought I to shut off sight and hear a bird's whistle, or shall I heed friendly conversation and laughter, or ought I muffle all this and feel my hands and arms over this cool blanket, or be still and feel the general temperance overall, or ought I cut off all this, too, so to more closely attend these smells I now perceive are being offered me, from what source and on what wind? To be sure, God is the Author of all things, but has He so many couriers, and I would know them all. I sometimes wonder: how are we to get to Him when these the least of his messengers shine so bright? I am not wishing for a drabber world--only lead, kindly light.

Well, I can't remember what choices I made, only that it was difficult to make a balance as long as I thought about it, and I think hard. But I know this: it was fine picnicery yesterday, and I hope my friends enjoyed it as much as I did. All this I've written puts me in mind of the end of The Man Who Was Thursday, when the poet is contrasted with the philosopher, from both of which I believe it has pleased God to make me a strange mixture. It is a favorite passage of mine, as my friends well know that know me well. Enjoy.

Well, dang it, I can't cut-and-paste, apparently, so I'll just put the quote on another post. Darn computer illiteracy!

No comments: