WINTER, BREATH OF CLOUDS

ON THE MASCULINE ENERGY OF CONTROL

Once the balance of masculine and feminine principles
is lost, mere competition between the genders
will replace complementarity.

There’s something about the decidedly masculine energy of control
that loves the crisp, clear, straight lines of a laser’s or bullet’s trajecto-
ry. Think of it:—straight walls, straight pipes, straight roads, straight
dams.

Pity the time when we no longer cry out that life is not only a matter of
the shortest, most efficient route between points a and b, but that there
is more, and that life is from another perspective—the eternally femi-
nine—essentially round.

Pity the time when time itself is seen not just an arrow flying fast and
furious to its goal, but also a mysterious, rhythmic pulse of wheels
turning within wheels which comes round with the miracle of each
new birth.

Pity the time when we acquiesce in our silence and become at once
both imitator and victim of this powerful, but oh-so-one-sided straight-
line universe of men in love with the illusion of mechanical control.

ON THE NECESSARY WISDOM OF ELDERS

Sudden change even a child can see. It is the slow, hard to perceive
changes that require the experienced eye and acquired wisdom of the
elder.

A wise eye may see that a certain bird species fails to return in spring; it
may see when a new species of weed pulls into town and sets up shop;
or when a small stream or creek runs dry in August, whereas a decade
ago it still delivered reliable water for crops until the fresh new
rains of fall.

The scientist studies, gets paid, and walks away. But the wisdom of the
elder by its very nature stays put, and like a tree with deep roots, is more
likely to stand its ground and protect the land of which it is a part.

One of the first lessons of the young should be the need to safeguard
this wisdom of elders, for that is what in turn safeguards their own fu-
ture, and their children’s future. Likewise, one of the tasks of the older
generation is not to get stuck in the tight jeans purchased from the cute
teenager at the big-city mall. It must learn again to move proudly with,
like the dignified ridge-top stonepine that has seen perhaps a thousand
winters or more, the slower, deeper, and much more resonant drum beat
of wisdom and great age.

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