Everytime we say goodbye, I die a little
Everytime we say goodbye, I wonder why a little....
The now famous coral tree outside our window has never looked better. The red petals have their throats open wide with nectar dripping. By month’s end they will have vanished, replaced by poisonous pods. They may be now seen as living their dying. Fortunately, the hummingbirds know when to poke their elongated snouts in for a drink and when to abstain.
At the same time the large green leaves have been roused from their slumber, waking into verdant wokefullness. As throughout all life, it’s a matter of, Hello, I must be going. The curtain goes down at the same time as the curtain goes up. I know the feeling.
Like Schrodinger’s cat, alive and dead at once, we are both in the maternity room and intensive care. The Republican Party is a moribund assemblage of Trump sycophants suffering from moral vacancy. We are witnessing a comatose party with no principles and no platform other than obstruction, suppression and denial. They are killing us softly with their song.
Meanwhile our planet begs for remedial care. We are losing over one hundred species a day according to some computer models while over 200,000 people join the human race daily. Make room for an additional two billion by 2050.
Schrodinger’s cat was simply part of a thought experiment set out to challenge Einstein (of all people) and demonstrate a fallacy of quantum mechanics. If this or any creature were confined in a box bombarded by electrons or any other lethal substance there is a point where it might be said to be both alive and dead, yet on observation this cannot be true. Beyond this oversimplification I get a brain ache. But the concept fascinates me at least metaphorically.
I take my cue from that tree busy making chlorophyll for greeny leaves and their day in the sun while those operatic flowers are hitting their high notes of the season with all corpuscles bursting, divas that they are.