052705

I feel weak lately. There's a mirror next to the dog mattress where
I sleep. More and more these days, I contemplate my face. Genius
doesn't show on the face, to answer Salieri's question. Mine is ugly
and disordered. Despite the healthy tan, there's an unhealthy
world-weariness about it.
I took a walk on the hill earlier. The first stretch is steep and
treacherous. Afterwards, I turned off onto a black, paved trail that
leads to the expensive, new sub-division.
I happened to see a black lizard lying motionless on a tan rock; this
reminded me of a similarly motionless iguana I saw on a beach in Baja,
Mexico. Anyway, this small, black lizard lied about six-feet from the
black road and was entirely motionless.
Above him were humming power lines, spewing low-levels of radiation.
Below the road was acre after acre of sagebrush and thorny bushes,
ruled over by the occasional juniper tree. Inside the lizard, there was
a beating heart, a purifying liver, a nervous system, essentially a
micro-cosm of life. Yet the lizard made no movement that was
discernable to me and I meditated upon him for a good minute.
Walking further, I came upon mullein plant after mullein plant,
growing out of the gravel by the sides of the road. My Mom once told me
that mullein is a plant that heals the earth. To me, these words are
too broad to have a clear meaning.
Nature moves in cycles. The human species has exploded in recent
centuries; there has to be a balancing contraction. These mullein
plants are like the scouts of a massive, approaching army. They'll heal
our cities and grow through our tombs. You just can't fight against an
enemy with the patience of that lizard.
On the way back, I saw two spiky, black caterpillars, each about an
inch long, crawling on the road, which was built only three years ago.
There's nothing else black for miles.