Sub Terra Vita Chronicle #20—Falling in the Image of the Words

Sub Terra Vita

By Tim Krenz

October 12, 2015

Chronicle #20—Falling in the Image of the Words

It fits for a fall in our Valley, to glory and applaud its richness and depth. And how deep and how wealthy our spirits run and prosper by the simple things and natural phenomena of life here, like life elsewhere, where a land living, as a season of dormancy approaches, mixes in the patterns and roots of a tradition and a culture. Here, in our Valley, in our small gullies of private colors or in our centers of gathering, the times change but the time of our age and wonderment stays fundamentally familiar to the place and people who live here.

The colors of nature turn, and the soft-less autumn winds blow the dryer luft of leaf and grass, dust and hay, in a whisp of whispering fall. Above the trees and across the fields, the skies set ground-ward the slight silhouette shadows emanating from cackling sounds of living, seasonal migrations. Forests and waters changed by the of colors of cooler temperature, reflect the artistry of god's tempera done of land and skies. Soon, the waves will churn with cold, until the waves of water freeze into the lines of ice.

Humans and all animals ready themselves for the times and the rituals with the season. We hurrahed our last summertime pleasures, and now see new fields bared from the harvested bounty of earth and labor. The times change soon for everyone to attend other duties, first, and other joys, hobbies and pleasures, which by tradition, we make and reflect new memories.

And in our times, what new memories can we make? By what means of today's living, can we preserve our experience with the honor of enshrining it? Where will the preservation of our culture and our core values, in the context and the meaning of it, find a firm connection between what we see and what we feel? Hence, our modern dilemma, our contradiction in inclusive terms, between things that have permanency and the things that increasingly acquire frivolous use(s).

In our age, however, the “impermanency” of thought, emotion, sight and the speed of reflecting those qualities, from good or foul stimuli, have a norm in our communications. They get too easily rendered and misplaced, and somewhat quickly forgot, in the “digitalish” of electronic snow. We can amaze and wonder, at the power byte or the pixels of a dense numbered geometry in a square of some tool, which few know how to repair with an easy fix, if broken, or even, heavens-to-mercy, “crashed kaput” (!).

Some lucky few, but very few, people can take a pic of some aspect of personal life or nature's sculptures that have true intrinsic meaning to these mortal and moral questions of our lives and for this world. Power(s) to them if they do. Most of us, unfortunately (including myself), cannot. In this, we have a solution.

We have beautiful land, interesting people, some nice neighbors, and the height of the god's autumn gift in our Valley. Honor, in pics, but choose it carefully. More than this, defined by this challenge, write the words that honor that one picture, by even a finding the precise word that defines a thousand pictures, and defy the capture of a thousand emotions that constrain the experience. One feels, in the presence of a pithy note to the world, the presence of memory. Pictures can only talk, but very few words always speak better. Combined, the artistry of life gets a context. And the memory will . . .continue, beyond present meaning.