tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-916797528658625671.post4672562979973350714..comments2023-04-03T03:36:37.693-07:00Comments on Birds and Seashells: Tree ironyVickihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01737617930785753930noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-916797528658625671.post-29164259948885071602009-08-14T18:07:55.388-07:002009-08-14T18:07:55.388-07:00I really like this piece. It touches my heart that...I really like this piece. It touches my heart that someone else has experienced this before. Once I was riding along in the car with Steve on a road trip. I had never been to the place we were going, and never seen the road we were driving on. I looked out the window at all the flowers, weeds, and trees zooming by us. In the car it was peaceful, we were just listening to music, thinking about where we were going, anticipating the vacation we were about to take. A delightful buzz maybe. For some reason I thought about what it was like outside of the car. I thought about the weed on the side of the interstate, bending out of the crack in the asphalt and struggling to turn its face toward the sun. Watching the cars zoom by. I thought to myself, if we lived forever, and never died, would we eventually slow down like the weeds? Would we just fight to own our crack in the asphalt, with the best view of the cars zooming by on the asphalt? Would we start fighting the flowers, jealous of their beauty and attention, wanting to choke them out? For an instant I discovered in myself what it might be like to be a weed. Maybe in a way it's the same thing, because when I mentioned it to Steve he just got real quiet and said, "Yeah. But plants don't have a frontal lobe or a brain what so ever. So they don't have feelings or motives. They just put down roots where they were dropped."Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18332807242219014597noreply@blogger.com