10.31.2006
10.30.2006
Idyll
The philosophy professor lectured on Descartes’' Meditations, utilizing the image of a tree to describe Descartes’' aim of authorship. I lingered perhaps too long on this image, and drifted off into an arbor idyll daydream--of course, not having anything to do with Descartes.
Imagine, first, the edge of a forest, where meadow meets a dark, gloomy wall of deciduous trees; and you're peering out from just within the forest to the meadow and an autumn ocher sky. Distinguishing itself from both the forest and the meadow, a magnificent maple tree stands as a median between the two adjoining natures. The air is languid and saturated with a goldenrod mixture of pollen and dust. Wisteria and vines bind the tree into shackled servitude to their purposes, promising never to slip to younger times; a time when the tree wasn't modestly dressed. A musty, earthy odor overpowers the senses, masking the rank recesses of the inner forests; as if the tree itself let off the pleasant smell. You, the imaginer, are cradled in a bed of root and moss, as a warm afternoon draft lulls you to sleep.
It was a moment of reverie--yummers.
Imagine, first, the edge of a forest, where meadow meets a dark, gloomy wall of deciduous trees; and you're peering out from just within the forest to the meadow and an autumn ocher sky. Distinguishing itself from both the forest and the meadow, a magnificent maple tree stands as a median between the two adjoining natures. The air is languid and saturated with a goldenrod mixture of pollen and dust. Wisteria and vines bind the tree into shackled servitude to their purposes, promising never to slip to younger times; a time when the tree wasn't modestly dressed. A musty, earthy odor overpowers the senses, masking the rank recesses of the inner forests; as if the tree itself let off the pleasant smell. You, the imaginer, are cradled in a bed of root and moss, as a warm afternoon draft lulls you to sleep.
It was a moment of reverie--yummers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
