What makes us come to attention suddenly for a brief moment, like the sun channeled through a magnifying lens? Then, as if a cloud crossed the sun's gaze, nothing, we are left withn othing but shadow and amnesia? We could call it indifference. If the shoe fits. Or temporary amnesia.
My gaze shifted, blurred, focused, and it was as if I were seeing the daffodils for the first time. Saint Daffyd's bells. Sunlight dancing in the meadow on the cusp of spring, when sap and hope rise eternal.
Someone once said that nature is indifferent, we bestow it with grandeur, and benevolence, because it is our nature to give relevance to arbitrary events. Because we can't bear the thought of all that aloneness, without pattern.
We are all smithys at the forge, hammer and tonging out patterns or paths for others to follow. What about that moment when the universe was formed when angels danced on a pinhead? Call that momentary silence before the Big Bang, a ditte.
Crystalline structure, the music of dancing mathematics, and fractals make the up the matter of the universe. It goes on with, or without us—only we can't bear the thought, it's too deep to hold onto for very long. And so we rise up momentarily, with a glimpse into something we can't quite get a hold of. Can't quite remember. And are left wanting.
And suddenly, daffodils are nodding their heads in the sunlight. We come to, we come to for a moment, and pay attention. Then the clouds cover the sun, laden with rain.
We planted daffodils by the side of the road for cancer victims, for those already dead. After 9/11, we planted a daffodil for each victim. Now there are thousands of daffodils nodding their heads in the churchyard.
2/27/2004
I said arbitrary indifference, to see if there were a distinction between the two words, and I played with the paying and then the not paying of attention. Arbitrary. Indifference. The Arbitrary Indifference of Trapped Sunlight.
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