In which we discuss the indifference of nature.

“Look at the sea. What does it care about offenses?” – James Joyce

…Rain is no respecter of persons 
the snow doesn’t give a soft white 
damn Whom it touches -ee cummings

This is a followup on yesterday’s post. (I think.) I have long held the belief that if there is a deity or higher power (of course there is, have you seen a baby tapir? HAVE YOU SEEN A BABY TAPIR?) if there is such a force, he is not human, he is not a he, humans were not made in his not-a-he image. The workings of the universe and our earth are so much bigger, busier and more important than anything we can comprehend. We are a spanner in the works. We have screwed some stuff up, but eventually we will be shrugged off.

I thought about this a lot last spring, at the beginning of quarantine, when we couldn’t talk to our neighbors, but the birds were still chatting and quarreling and singing to each other and making nests. We’re just a nuisance. And I think about it this spring, grateful for the hope that the leaf-buds and the birds and the light and the ferns give to us, despite everything we have done. Despite everything we have done. And they neither know nor care about any of it!

If you have ever stood on a beach, and watched the great beautiful beast that is the ocean washing closer and farther from your toes, to its own schedule, with an actually awesome strength, I think you will recognize that part of the sea’s strange comfort is that it makes you realize how little we matter, how little our offenses and grievances matter.

Here’s the rest of the ridiculously beautiful ee Cummings poem:

XIX 

i will cultivate within 
me scrupulously the Inimitable which 
is loneliness, these unique dreams 
never shall soil their raiment 

with phenomena: such 
being a conduct worthy of 

more ponderous 
wishes or 
hopes less 
tall than mine” (opening the windows) 

“and there is a philosophy” strictly at 
which instant(leaped 
into the 

street)this deep immediate mask and 
expressing “as for myself, because i 
am slender and fragile 
i borrow contact from that you and from 

this you sensations, imitating a few fatally 

exquisite”(pulling Its shawl carefully around 
it)”things i mean the 
Rain is no respecter of persons 
the snow doesn’t give a soft white 
damn Whom it touches

And here’s Charles Trenet with La Mer, because I love it.