All About LIfe

Life and death-seasons and shorelines

All About Life

In Spring, flowers have there way with nature. The rest of us go along for the ride less colorful. Race riots have their way with us. Being alive must have meaning to the observer, perhaps beyond the meaning of the skin.

There is this theory going around that some of us are more alive than others simply because of our special genius. Being aware of life because of enhanced intellectual abilities translates to being more alive. It could be that those individuals feel they can escape the inevitable end by accomplishing more than their fellow ordinary men and women in life.

Why not? They are not going anywhere else, anywhere special but in and out of life, just like the flowers but with more time on their side than them. They can expend more energy on their God given longevity in the creation of the mundane or extraordinary activities of life in their activities.

Brilliant men and women in history exist like the rest of us mere mortal, dull minded ones, dull normal's as we are called in psychological circles for a purpose only known to them. We all may take different paths. All lead to the same place though, the same simple place in history, a resting place out there, something that can not be fixed by the smart or not so smart among us.

There is something around the bend, around the corner of the mind and time. Thinkers look for it to find a cure for life. The cure was always there. It is called death. It is a resting place in history with the rest of humanity but still the inventions are great, like the journey, it is all very interesting to explore and take the tour for free.

In Summer, we hide beneath the breaking waves of temperate oceans. We hold each grain of sand in hand by the heated beaches, where the land meets water to that end. There is no need to count each drop of water or the scorched particles beneath our feet that hurt us. We know what they are all about and our place in the common scenery and scheme of things.

Fall comes with flying objects soft and soundless, floating down in forms of colored spinning leaves, designed to mesmerize the viewer of such things. With the help of wind they define the season. Trees become dark and skeleton lifeless. Branches stretch up and out like deformed twisted arms, bare naked to gray skies in colder weather. You can guess the rest.

Florida pretends there is no Winter. When it comes, the people there must be told about the cold from people escaping it from the north. Perhaps there is no such thing. It is a figment of the imagination. They don't even want to hear or think about such awful things.

They must watch ice and snow on televisions to get the picture, to get the feel. The interest is very low though or so we are informed by people in the know. There is no escape from cold. Just ask the elderly. That is why they go to Florida.

Children know all about eternity. They hold it in the twinkling of an eye and in their smiles. They are immortal to the biter end. Mom and dad will follow them in Winter and through the other thick and thin of seasons and things more pressing where ever they may lead them.

In Spring, the flowers have their way with nature, something worth remembering.