The Rock, River & Tree

A Rock, A River, A Tree . . . Hosts to species long since departed. I’m quoting from memory, but I believe the words go in that order. These are Maya Angelou’s words from her poem On the Pulse of Morning. If you have never read this poem, or don’t ever read poetry, close this window now, pull it up and have a quick go. Here is a link to make it easy for you: On the Pulse of Morning. Ms. Angelou puts these words to page to honor hope at a time in the not too distant past when America spoke of dawns, proudly preached high and hopeful expectations, new beginnings, and the brightness begotten by the new day. Her ode to the rock, river and tree also serves to remind us of our own insignificance in the shadow of these forces, regardless of origin or nationality. If you pause for a moment and scroll through your memories close at hand, you will find we have been honoring the rock, river and tree continuously, in some form or another, without fail, since forever.

Hiker generated rock & tree sculpture French Valley – Torres del Paine
Hiker generated rock & tree sculpture Los Torres – Torres del Paine

On second thought, here is Dr. Angelou reciting her poem for you, if you haven’t already looked it up.

Take 6 minutes out of your day for this.

As I walked, scrambled, hiked and climbed 8 hours a day, kilometer after kilometer, I had plenty of time to become enchanted down by the riverside. And as I felt the sharp drop in temperature in the shade of the sudden outcropping of trees, and as I nursed elbows and knees scraped from the stone hillsides and stood at the base of Los Torres (The Towers), I shrank in significance while the rocks towered over me — loudly. I don’t believe in ending sentences with adverbs, but these rocks proudly strutted their enormous striations, and gouged each other into crevices, which in turn gave the appearance of their triumph being lived out loud — loudly.

Roaring rock
Living loudly

I could hear these stone mountains roar. And in a way, these stone towers appeared as loud as the sound of the rivers gushing down over the rocks, and in direct proportion to the engulfing silence created by the copse of thick beech trees nearby. 

I heeded Miss Maya’s call to look up and out, and stand upon the rock, and rest by the river and listen to the calling of the trees. Here is where we learn to lay down our swords and shields, and study war no more.

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  1. Beth

    😊

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