Last night I returned from a week long business trip to Sacramento, and it was the first time I had ever been eager to return from California to Minnesota for the hospitable weather. It was raining from almost the moment I stepped off the plane in Sacramento until the moment I boarded the return flight, while the unseasonably delightful weather in Minneapolis the week I was gone, and when I returned, has been and is nothing short of freakish--and very welcome. And so, upon my return, stepping out of the airport and into the warm and sunny disposition of Minneapolis, I counted myself lucky in the extreme--which seemed suitable for St. Paddy's Day Eve, when we all try to cash in on a little 'luck o'the Irish.
The first thing I saw, upon starting off on my island walk early the next morning, was a horde of people streaming along the far side of the river, most of them wearing green shirts. It seemed that a St. Patrick's Day 5K race was afoot, so to speak. I snapped this photo and continued along my side of the river, observing the progress of the race as it snaked down toward the Hennepin Avenue Bridge and beyond.
Here is the second shot I took, in which the race participants can be seen underneath the arch of the Central Avenue bridge, as they begin to make their way onto the Stone Arch Bridge. I would have liked to participate in this race, but I'm not sure my body is quite ready, and at any rate, I hadn't known about it. But my body had better prepare itself quickly, for I have enrolled in the World Without Genocide 5K Legacy Run scheduled for April 1 inside the Metrodome--if I'm not sufficiently ready by then, I'm afraid I will deserve to be branded the April Fool.
Down at the eastern tip of the island, I observed this form as it moved through the river, as though with purpose, thinking it was a creature of some kind. Surely it couldn't be an alligator? Of course not--merely a piece of driftwood, playing tricks on my eyes with sunlight and watery wavelets. I love the reflections of the buildings falling toward me across the water.
As I rounded the tip of the island and began heading up the eastern shore, I noticed something new. Someone had done some trimming of tree branches, and as I walked I noticed where limbs had been cleanly lopped off, leaving flat-headed stumps of exposed pith whose whiteness was set off against the smoky-hued bark of the trunks and remaining limbs. I thought: Amputations.
My initial feeling was regret, and related censure, that the sylvan beauty of the area had been reduced by so many picturesque tree limbs. Yet I promptly realized that those who had perpetrated the scourge in question were most likely not depraved or sadistic nature haters, but more likely paid civil servants performing a task intended to facilitate and prolong the remaining life and overall health of the trees. And that thought led me to extend the analogy to human nature--not with respect to the actual amputation of human limbs, but rather with respect to the necessity, on occasion, to prune elements which threaten to infect, overburden or even lethally poison our lives. These elements may be unhealthy habits, they may be stressful or unsatisfying jobs, or even other people whom we have allowed to blight our happiness and future potential.
As suggested in these photos, the troublesome agents may be close to us, at ground level, as it were, where we see and interact with them closely every day, or they may operate upon us from a distance, with no less harmful effects. So many of us continue to live with these damaging and dispiriting elements, often because the efforts and operations required to amputate them from our lives appears too arduous, too fraught with fears and perils. And so we choose, often silently and sometimes subconsciously, to settle. The lesson taught by the surgically altered trees on this lovely St. Paddy's Day morn is this: we need not settle for the luck we've known until now, or for circumstances or people who are doing us harm and preventing us from growing; we can prune away the unwholesome elements, however difficult or fearsome it may seem, and resume a safe and healthy new life, in which we can pursue and achieve things we once could only dream about. We may not find a pot o'gold, but isn't peace of mind, freedom from unhealthy elements, and the opportunity to live our lives to the fullest even better?
Life flows on, in and around us—and flows most freely and joyously--like river waters through a sluice--when burdensome and toxic sediments are filtered out.
D.E.S.
The first thing I saw, upon starting off on my island walk early the next morning, was a horde of people streaming along the far side of the river, most of them wearing green shirts. It seemed that a St. Patrick's Day 5K race was afoot, so to speak. I snapped this photo and continued along my side of the river, observing the progress of the race as it snaked down toward the Hennepin Avenue Bridge and beyond.
Here is the second shot I took, in which the race participants can be seen underneath the arch of the Central Avenue bridge, as they begin to make their way onto the Stone Arch Bridge. I would have liked to participate in this race, but I'm not sure my body is quite ready, and at any rate, I hadn't known about it. But my body had better prepare itself quickly, for I have enrolled in the World Without Genocide 5K Legacy Run scheduled for April 1 inside the Metrodome--if I'm not sufficiently ready by then, I'm afraid I will deserve to be branded the April Fool.
Down at the eastern tip of the island, I observed this form as it moved through the river, as though with purpose, thinking it was a creature of some kind. Surely it couldn't be an alligator? Of course not--merely a piece of driftwood, playing tricks on my eyes with sunlight and watery wavelets. I love the reflections of the buildings falling toward me across the water.
As I rounded the tip of the island and began heading up the eastern shore, I noticed something new. Someone had done some trimming of tree branches, and as I walked I noticed where limbs had been cleanly lopped off, leaving flat-headed stumps of exposed pith whose whiteness was set off against the smoky-hued bark of the trunks and remaining limbs. I thought: Amputations.
My initial feeling was regret, and related censure, that the sylvan beauty of the area had been reduced by so many picturesque tree limbs. Yet I promptly realized that those who had perpetrated the scourge in question were most likely not depraved or sadistic nature haters, but more likely paid civil servants performing a task intended to facilitate and prolong the remaining life and overall health of the trees. And that thought led me to extend the analogy to human nature--not with respect to the actual amputation of human limbs, but rather with respect to the necessity, on occasion, to prune elements which threaten to infect, overburden or even lethally poison our lives. These elements may be unhealthy habits, they may be stressful or unsatisfying jobs, or even other people whom we have allowed to blight our happiness and future potential.
As suggested in these photos, the troublesome agents may be close to us, at ground level, as it were, where we see and interact with them closely every day, or they may operate upon us from a distance, with no less harmful effects. So many of us continue to live with these damaging and dispiriting elements, often because the efforts and operations required to amputate them from our lives appears too arduous, too fraught with fears and perils. And so we choose, often silently and sometimes subconsciously, to settle. The lesson taught by the surgically altered trees on this lovely St. Paddy's Day morn is this: we need not settle for the luck we've known until now, or for circumstances or people who are doing us harm and preventing us from growing; we can prune away the unwholesome elements, however difficult or fearsome it may seem, and resume a safe and healthy new life, in which we can pursue and achieve things we once could only dream about. We may not find a pot o'gold, but isn't peace of mind, freedom from unhealthy elements, and the opportunity to live our lives to the fullest even better?Life flows on, in and around us—and flows most freely and joyously--like river waters through a sluice--when burdensome and toxic sediments are filtered out.
D.E.S.
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