Building Blocks

I look at the leaves lying in the creek water, layered one on top of the other,

varied shapes and colors against a backdrop of rocks, sediment, twigs, and other decaying matter,

water glistening, tree branches from above reflecting in the water, sun shining on it like a beacon of light pointing to a beautiful showcase of art.

It's as though I'm meant to be seeing this spot in this exact moment, to honor its stillness and beauty, in order to learn something.

I find myself unable to stop starring and thinking about its astonishing normal beauty, a kind of significant beauty that is likely so often missed in today's rush-rush world.

I imagine each leaf as it was blown from its branch and as it slowly swirled down to its final resting place here, landing on top of or next to another leaf, perhaps the same, but likely different in shape, in color, in texture, in size, in age.

I wonder how long some of more settled ones have been here, and I ponder the cushioning and support they add as others land, coming to rest directly on top of their softness and comforting wisdom, and the safe home they provide to countless eggs and critters and insects.

Like building blocks of a flawless, masterfully designed ecosystem each individual component adds structure and form and consequence to the whole.

And I look at the serenity with which they exist in this place together – both young and old, small and large, symmetrically shaped and misshapen, colored and brown – leaves, rocks, sediment, moss, sticks, and the beauty that all of their variations and differences add to the whole,

and I can't help but compare this one tiny piece of creek bed to life in the grand scheme,

wishing we could all view our existence in this extraordinary way and with this beautifully unspoiled, untouched, uncomplicated simplicity.

©Chris Colyer

October 19, 2019