..Ironic how your desperation to save the mums actually led to their demise. Poetic, huh?
Oh how they must have screamed in terror and pain as your 2 ton deathwagon slowly backed over them. I’m just glad flowers scream at decibel levels inaudible to the human ear. At least the neighborhood children were spared a lifetime of night terrors from the tortured shrieks you squeezed from the mums as you crushed them with your car.
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And another thing. Photo Synthesis — If mums and other screaming flowers, eat light, then why doesn’t it get darker and darker as more and more flowers eat more and more light?
Maybe its a good thing to run over mums. More light for the rest of us.
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“….Last night, after a day in the garden, I asked Robin to explain (again) photosynthesis to me. I can’t take in this business of _eating light_ and turning it into stem and thorn and flower…
I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden. Maybe I would call it eating light. Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice: _apophatic mysticism_, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and _kataphatic mysticism, less well defined: an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation.
Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole, a kataphatic mystic, as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts: but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles. Francis and Thérèse were made, really made, any mother superior will let you know, in the dark nights of their lives: no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God’s arms.
When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period, my grandmother took me aside and said, ‘Now your childhood is over. You will never really be happy again.’ That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism.
But, I’m sorry, I’m going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire.”
― Mary Rose O’Reilley, The Barn at the End of the World: The Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd
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