“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, ’tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all: since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is’t to leave betimes?” William Shakespeare (Hamlet, 5.2.214)
To live as Brazilian Pirahã
is to be wholly in the present
where mists of past and future
are intangibles of time.
To live with Pirahã worldview
is to have no word for worry.
Dreamtime is the same as waketime…
To live on the Meici River
is to flow one with the moment
where death is observation
eyes close…breath stops…
and readiness is all.
I’ve heard Scots witches chanting,
survived a Bermoothes shipwreck,
smelled the reek of battle gore
I’ve…watched players play The Mousetrap one still cold night
and I’ve circle danced
while Titania’s elves and faeries
sang lullabies in an Athens grove.
a simple balance scale
and once…from Egypt
a covered basket
brimmed to the top with figs.
Deep…deep beneath Dad’s land
and still cooling from beginnings,
tectonic plates expand…subduct…
slip slide with incremental tension,
slight tremors on a Richter scale…
yet not enough for red ants
in his woods beyond the barn
to swarm out from their mounds,
nor for his canary in the kitchen
to bash its feathered body
against the metal cage.
He knows those warnings
to move horses from the stable.
Lately, we’ve all noticed
he doesn’t pay much mind
to TV news and such…
only reads the local paper
and books from the living room…
like the Bible and Farmer’s Almanac
and plays here and there by Shakespeare.
He spends more time out on the porch,
and senses weather changes
even before the metal rooster
on the old barn arcs from east to west,
and notes balances tipping
like horizon sun flash…on the cusp
just before the set.
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