Nature is, above all, profligate. Don't believe them when they tell you how economical and thrifty nature is, whose leaves return to the soil. Wouldn't it be cheaper to leave them on the tree in the first place? This deciduous business alone is a radical scheme, the brainchild of a deranged manic-depressive with limitless capital. Extravagance! Nature will try anything once. This is what the sign of the insects says. No form is too gruesome, no behavior too grotesque. If you're dealing with organic compounds, then let them combine. If it works, if it quickens, set it clacking in the grass; there's always room for one more; you ain't so handsome yourself. This is a spendthrift economy, though nothing is lost, all is spent.
Dillard has been observing a grasshopper clinging to her study window. She observes it in all its alien-ish detail--with its mandibular mouth parts and spiked feet and armored abdomen. It's no wonder that they made a movie in the 1950s about radiated, giant grasshoppers destroying the earth (Them!). Dillard, however, sees the extravagance of nature in the grasshopper. Nature's willingness to try anything once. Everything gets recycled--leaves, trees, insects. As Dillard says, "nothing is lost, all is spent."
Saturday. The sun is out. The world is opening up. When I got up this morning, I could hear the birds outside in a raucous symphony. I like to think they're talking to each other, calling out things like "There's worms over here!" or "Hey, baby, I'd like some of your tail!" or "Stay away from my branch, you little pecker!" It was loud and constant. A sign that the machine of nature is hard at work.
Dillard is right about the universe, I think. God doesn't let anything go to waste. Dinosaurs become fossils become fossil fuels become crude oil become gasoline become car exhaust become global warming become melting polar ice caps become climate change become drought and flooding become human extinction become rise of the grasshopper. Or something like that. Sometimes, I think God looks down on this little ball of cosmic rock, shakes His head, and thinks, "I should have stopped with the platypus."
Speaking of the rise of alien insects--now that Donald Trump is pretty much the Republican nominee for President of the United States, he has amped up his campaign of nastiness. This morning, I heard on the news that he's attacking Hillary Clinton for Bill Clinton's marital infidelity, somehow calling into question her morals. I don't get that. Supposedly, he's a Christian, and yet he's criticizing a woman for forgiving her husband and preserving her marriage. The last time I checked, Donald Trump has been married three times. So, I guess Mr. Trump doesn't have a problem with recycling, at least when it comes to wives.
Dillard says that Nature will try anything once, just to see what happens. I'm hoping that the American people don't follow Nature's example. I don't think that the United States will recover that quickly from four years of President Locust.
Saint Marty is preparing for the possibility, though. He's buying a supply of Raid.
Confessions of Saint Marty
No comments:
Post a Comment