I’m part of a local writers group and each week we write spontaneously for about 15 minutes on a prompt supplied by our fearless leader, Dave. Here’s what I had to say about this picture one Saturday afternoon:
A quote from the poet Rumi was my voicemail greeting for a while, back in the days of landlines:
“Where there is ruin there is hope for treasure.”
At the time, I was grieving. Seems like there is a lot of that in life. Pretty sure I was born into a world that seems broken from the get-go. Rust and ruin everywhere.
I’ve been looking for treasure in ruin for a long time. It’s not quite the same as looking on the bright side of things…some shit is just dark. But, the light green of life is wily–it has no strategy, no game. A singular drive to be, to grow, in any setting, out of any crack, seems to be its only organizing principle and this simplicity of focus proliferates into wildflowers and poets, no matter the ruin.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about the odd an unexpected wildlife refuge which has appeared around the Chernobyl site. Life plus time always equals something.
Frankly, I think that my problem–from conception–was that neither life nor time, components of this equation, are native to wherever souls come from. The adjustment felt like fragmentation, like ruin. Finding some treasure in the rusty truck of existence has been the defining mission and preoccupation and grief of life so far. But, life is the only place where you can find wildflowers, and they are nice. Some days they are almost enough.