There are moments of beauty that we can stumble on in the irregular patterns of our lives. The natural environment, no matter how abused it may be with hideously ditched litter and refuse, still has it's beauty in its little moments and impermanence. Here are two case studies from the same one hour period.
Case study one: It is mid-December, at dusk, with a clear sky stretching across a very chilly landscape. Overlooking the rugby field, while munching on contraband Big Hoops, white mist begins to form at the hedgerows and in the corners of the field, while the orange setting sun looms massively over the tree-lined horizon. It's utterly beautiful. And cold. So very, very cold. Yes, December does have some good aspects.
Case study two: Continuing toward my student, as sunset continues, there is time to ramble a little and wander down a side road toward a little used footpath behind the primary school. There, completely unexpectedly, a grand sight awaits. A long view down the valley, toward the vividly orange sunset, reflecting from cotton wool strings of cloud. A sunset so amazingly pure and transient that it demands to be seen for a few minutes. In the distance, vehicles zoom along a local road, but it's far enough away to not be distracting What a grand moment it is, when you discover something that no-one else will ever experience, purely because it will never happen again in that exact way.
Could it be that the impermanence of life is what should make it most valuable? It has long been a contention here that immortality would be deathly dull, but there would be many more moments of impermanent glory, culminating in the horrifically slow end of the world. No, let's not be immortal. Can you imagine all the accumulated paperwork from centuries of life? Yikes!
O.
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