Twist…WAIT FOR IT

There is a curious tree I found; a maple, rooted into the gently sloping lawn of the Uxbridge Quaker Meeting House. The tree must be at least 150 years old, judging from its circumference and height. Its leaves, and those of its neighbours, make an impressive canopy, volleying the hot sun's rays up top to maintain shaded cool underneath. Today, there is a light, sensual breeze from the west, rolling along the meeting house lawn, flinging perfume from the hay fields and the fence-line forest that it tripped through on its approach. I sit on the porch steps, thinking and trying to come to terms with myself, when I notice that the great trunk of the tree appears to be twisted. It is as if a great hand reached down and gave the tree a clockwise quarter turn giving its outer bark the unmistakably ropey look of a twisted towel or a whip of licorice.

I have never seen anything like this. I imagine the tree has weathered 150 years of storms, gust fronts, and all of the daily winds that have pushed against it, stressing it at the perfect angle to give it this unique texture. Remarkable tree. Its trunk is mighty and straight; twisted, but not bowed or bent. 

Remarkable.

I wonder, when the tree was a freshly planted sapling, did it know what was coming? Did it set its roots in deep in wise preparation before shooting upward? Was it sifting out subtle waves of indifference, complicity, and arrogance in the air before its very first fall, and therefore nonplussed with each added ring?

I wonder. I'm having a hard enough time grokking existence, especially if it means repeating the unnecessary loops of insanity mankind seems keen for. 

Blah, blah, blah…oh give me strength...

OKAY, I DON'T WANT TO WRITE ANY MORE OF THIS SHIT. SO EVERYONE GET YOUR ACT TOGETHER. THIS MEANS YOU. MAKE AN EFFORT. 

      I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANY MORE.

I'M GOING TO FINISH MY COFFEE.

 I'M GOING TO GO FOR A BIKE RIDE, 

AND WHEN I GET BACK, I EXPECT YOU ALL TO HAVE SORTED YOURSELVES OUT AND DECIDED TO STOP

 BEING

TOTAL 

DICKS.

DON'T MAKE ME HAVE TO COME OVER THERE.

There. That feels better.