It was an ordinary Monday. Life was making its usual mess: cars rushed to get somewhere, cranes banged loudly; people hurried with busy frowns, meetings occurred, phones rang, tasks were accomplished!
As all this drama played, I was sitting still in the eye of the city-storm, at the wilderness of The Hebrew University’s Botanical Garden.
A sketchbook on my lap – like I had nowhere more important to be – I sat and observed them: trees, flowers, weeds, birds, bees, frogs and even some fish in a tiny pond, a marvellous performance of spring.
“If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. “
Hours passed, nature didn’t mind me, it was doing its regular thing. I, on the other hand, was somewhat amazed with myself. Sitting there, painting slowly, breathing slowly, easy as the growing grass, tranquil with the deep knowing this is exactly what I’m suppose to be doing on this Monday morning.
Who are you? I asked.
A whisper through the trees replied: “The forest knows…”
Lost by David Wagoner
Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it, you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.
Post art: Watercolour botanical illustrations