I seem to be in a reflective mood of late. My brother writes to me of snow and I see myself walking through fresh powder, creating my own path.
My neighborhood book group gathered last night and we discussed Tortilla Curtain, and agreed it gives all sides of the immigration problem, though certainly CA cannot function without the influx of these hard-working, family people. When do we find a solution that honors all? One woman grew up in Fresno and picked fruit alongside the workers. She returns now to visit with her son. The women come to the fields at lunch and make a little fire and make tortillas and tamales. Her son feasts with them and loves being a part of their lives and yet, this group of people is often so maligned.
I keep hearing the Simon and Garfunkel song in my head, 7 O'clock News/Silent Night. Conflict has been going on a long time and when I gather with my neighbors and hear the disputes over trees and roots and drainage, I wonder how we exist at all. I also hear how brazen the coyotes are becoming. I'm glad my two cats are smart and know when to tuck inside. I think mainly right now I'm absorbed in the preciousness, majesty and magic of life.
We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.
And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.
That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going?
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.
~ Czeslaw Milosz ~
(The Collected Poems 1931 - 1987,
translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Lillian Vallee)