“Too many of my fellow Christians voted for selfishness and for degradation of the beautiful world God created. I guess they figured that by the time the planet was a smoky wasteland, they’d be nice and comfy in heaven, so wotthehell.”
― Garrison Keillor
As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.
“In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter,
– Christina Rossetti
Eleven years of drought,
the rocks are sick.
The world is dying.
Evil is a trick.
Do not move
The water, the earth and the sun turn black.
God in His Perplexity,
pretends it’s His Will.
Francisco Manoel: And where does the snow come from?
Euclides: You’ll see it out there! There’s always snow on the moon! That’s why it’s always white! White and cold. You have to look very carefully.
Francisco Manoel: And why is that?
Euclides: It’s because the moon.. takes the water out of the ocean. And when night falls… the tips of the mountains attract the snowflakes. But only as much as the salt we have in our tears.
Francisco Manoel: And here on earth?
Euclides: It’s very far away – you must keep going west. Four years on horseback… and ten on foot. And after that, there are high mountains. They rise higher and higher – right over the clouds. And then above the clouds, then you find the snow. It only falls in the night-time. Just like feathers. But it only falls… from above the clouds. And then the whole world turns light as a feather – and snow white! Even the lions turn white… and the eagles… the rabbits get a snowy coat… and all the animals in the world turn white! And when you’re walking through the snow… your feet don’t weigh anything at all. And the little snowflakes go flying up in the air… just like feathers
From: Cobra Verde
If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you need.
If you can get far enough away from the traffic and the noise… you will hear the music that is being played in the fields of flowers, on the mountain tops, and everywhere we have not trampled.
~Zen to Zany
Why use up the forests which were centuries in the making and the mines which required ages to lay down, if we can get the equivalent of forest and mineral products in the annual growth of the hemp fields?
The color of springtime is in the flower.
The color of winter is in the imagination…
~Ward Elliot Hour