After lying on the seat, looking up into oak leaves and branches for about 20 minutes... what of the next minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years, even decades, centuries - what of the future of everyone, alive, dead or unborn? I doubt if this question is often asked - on behalf of everyone. On behalf of oneself it is near to nonsense but on behalf of everyone it becomes interesting, if eerie, what are we actually doing, the 6, 10, or perhaps 20 billion of us, the billions before us, and the perhaps none who will survive (even as memories) cosmic changes such as global warming, volcanic eruptions, asteroid impacts, or the cooling of the sun?
As I look up from writing these questions I see a woman running by in upright posture, intent on some goal, two people, unknown, walking in long grass (are they really people?), a woman calling to a dog, leaves and branches and grasses moving in response to air movement... and as I look inward I realise that I'm less tired than I was an hour ago, and that my respiratory disorder has lessened as the wind has become westerly and less humid, and cooler... contentment increases, doubts vanish, those difficult or fearful questions of time seem less relevant... the world seems to recompose itself apart from human thought, as a man and a woman walk slowly by, he leading she following, about one step a second, neither is hurrying... and the grasses and trees and the blue sky reveal continuity, stability, and no need for doubt, only faith, despite all of us, or because.
A man walking by turns as he walks to look towards me and I wave - and he waves back. That is one answer, those waves are what happened in the next minutes, among billions of actions - and in the following few minutes who knows?... Those questions are fading and my confidence returns. I continue this walk, and this life.
digital diary archive© 2002, 2003 john chris jones
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