The sky above
Griffith Park is
Black and white,
A canvas primed.
Ancient light,
Millions of years old,
Dances gracefully
On a black surface
Of the universe.
Painting the seasons
With cosmic hues.
Stars holding hands,
Singing so brightly.
I climb the hill,
Bathed in the glow
Of the moon’s gentle smile.
And I watch the trees
Breathe. Inhale,
Exhale.
Leaves chatting
Each other up.
Colorful threads,
Connect the leaves,
To the sky’s light.
Connect the leaves,
To the forest,
And all of its life.
Connect the leaves
To me.
A surrender
In wonder.
Colorful threads,
Love.
Revealed.
In every breath,
In every beam.
The Celestial Painter’s Palette
Isn’t it amazing how nature can turn even the most ordinary night into a masterpiece? This piece really captures that magical moment when we stop and really see the world around us.
In “Nature,” Emerson writes, “Standing on the bare ground, my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space, all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.” This sentiment is reflected in the poem’s lines “And I watch the trees / Breathe. Inhale, / Exhale,” suggesting a profound connection and unity with nature.
The poem’s depiction of “Colorful threads” connecting various elements of nature echoes Emerson’s idea that all of nature is a metaphor for the human mind. As Emerson states, “Every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact.” This aligns with the poem’s portrayal of leaves connected to the sky, forest, and the observer, symbolizing the spiritual interconnectedness of all things.
Think about that image of the sky as a primed canvas. It’s like what the artist James Turrell does with his Skyspace installations – he frames the sky in a way that makes us see it anew, as if for the first time.
And those ancient light beams, millions of years old? That’s not just poetic license. It’s hitting on a mind-bending astronomical fact. The light from stars takes so long to reach us that we’re literally looking into the past when we gaze at the night sky. It’s like what Carl Sagan meant when he said we’re made of “star stuff” – we’re connected to the cosmos in the most fundamental way.
Now, the idea of stars holding hands and singing – that’s tapping into something primal. It’s like what the ancient Greeks were getting at with their “music of the spheres.” There’s a harmony to the universe that we can feel, even if we can’t always hear it.
And how about those trees breathing? That’s not just pretty imagery. Trees really do have a kind of respiration, taking in carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen. It’s like what the biologist Lynn Margulis called “Gaia theory” – the idea that the Earth itself is like a living organism, with all its parts working together.
The colorful threads connecting everything – that’s hitting on something deep about interconnectedness. It’s like what the Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh calls “interbeing.” We’re not separate from nature; we’re part of its grand web.
So what does this mean for us? Well, maybe it’s about taking the time to really see the world around us. To recognize the magic in the everyday. As the poet Mary Oliver often asked, “How many times have I been alive?”
Remember, every moment is an opportunity for wonder. Every breath, every beam of light, is part of this grand cosmic dance. As Einstein once said, “There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
So next time you’re out at night, take a moment. Look up at the stars. Watch the trees breathe. Let yourself be connected by those colorful threads of love and wonder. Because in that moment of surrender to the beauty around you? That’s when the real magic happens.