Hunting and Gathering

I think that my life is based on a peculiar anthropology.  Its vague miracles and modest wonders were not found in a manicured garden of curiosities.  They did not grow from seedlings and groomed saplings. I did not wait for them to grow, or to rise yawning, from their fragrant beds. I did not cultivate them out of confidence, or the expectation of what such a harvest could bring.
Instead, I hunted.  But my cache of weapons does not include guns or arrows.  I do not need to destroy in order to make my life remarkable.  Rather, I hunt with my eyes and my mind; making sure that I’m always accompanied by that map of whimsy and caprice, the imagination.  I hunt for what is hidden, for what lurks – for what waves its banner of lively beauty before disappearing, forcing me to give chase if I was quick enough to even notice.
And then I gather what I’ve found.  It might be thought that my yield is an unpretentious one…but to me they create a pattern of worthies which keep me warm throughout the year.  A sunset that melts like gold silk; birds that fly in a in a filigree of panic and hunger; autumn leaves the color of kitchen spices; the eyes of a 1905 beauty staring at me from the bottom of a box of sepia photographs; a statue of three sheep dancing the can-can – carrying a bouquet of orchids that someone had placed in their dainty, flamboyant hooves.  How thankful I am for that unknown person’s fey creativity.
Did You Think I Was Kidding?


More.. http://thecaferoyal.wordpress.com/2015/01/08/hunting-and-gathering/

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