God, the rock, and the leaf 

Which one should I start with? With God, even again with his son? The rock, the one in the surf? Or the leaf in the wind?

It would be best to leave the first one alone, because I certainly would be overwhelmed by the question of having to rewrite this story, in view of my stubborn insistence on a simple old story, whether Adam and Eve and the story should now be told from a female, from a neutral or from an asterisk, or an underscore's point of view, or from another changed perspective. This is too complicated for me, and confuses me endlessly. It would be much easier for me to swallow a drug, and it better be a strong one. And one would then only see the petrified being, apparently dead, staring into space, or trembling leaves.

A few days ago we drove to nearby Rathwood to take a walk, to catch some fresh air, to stretch our legs, and to clear the mind. The fact that I used to be an eternal and tireless wanderer has almost been forgotten in the meantime, it has become a simple legend. The reality is different. But on this day we just started walking from the parking lot, and instead of crossing the wooden bridge into the forest and doing the almost same route over and over again, I suggested to take a different route in this sunny weather, to the animal farm, into the open terrain, where the struggling autumn sun could warm our sometimes troubled soul - I mean chest, face and bones of course. So we left the nearby forest on the right and came to the animal enclosures. And Sinead asked, astonished, where are all the animals?

I found this question a bit funny, because not far ahead of us was a pasture where probably hundreds of black and white sheep were grazing, and we just were about to pass an enclosure where admittedly no animals were grazing, but some big boulders were bathing in the sun. Strangely enough I had seen - in two of these rocks - animals of even a larger size. Don't you see them, the elephant and the camel?

In our enlightened opinion, rocks are not creatures, and certainly not sentient ones. There is obviously nothing that would contradict this definition, because even I can't imagine that this elephant rock feels, and thinks; for example, "What strange creatures are walking by!" Or: "I am a proud rock elephant, strong and unshakable"; or: "I feel a bit lonely, alone on this vast plane far from the rocky mountains, with only this camel over there, which I could not even kiss if I wanted to". So we are probably in agreement about their "in-sensitivity". And yet: I insist: if you look at such a rock without thinking - admittedly difficult for a being as feeling as human as I - then you can hardly avoid feeling that there is something there that lives, touches you, maybe even feels, and who knows, even thinks. Against all scientific knowledge, against any statistics.

When I thought of this rock, and recognized the elephant in it, I immediately thought of the leaf, the falling leaf in the gentle wind of the sunny autumn day, which just left the grip of its mother's finger and is sailing towards the ground. Sometimes it falls simply, almost drops to the ground, but quite often only after it makes a few more capers. In contrast to the sentient human being, leaves do not seem to be very independent, and therefore hardly able to distinguish and recognize themselves as such sentient beings. And I felt like this leaf, in the autumn of my life, and I thought it would not surprise me if someday a scientist could and would look at such a leaf really close up, accompanying it on its last journey, so to speak, and not just looking at it stuck under the microscope.

Then he or she would perhaps see, or even hear, that this leaf also has many thoughts. But perhaps, if he would even hear its thoughts, he would realize that these are only his own. But I suppose he would then also become unsure whose thoughts they are at all. Of course this would not happen, if he were observing this leaf with a flying mini-drone, with micro-camera and miniature listening rod, but if he were so well equipped that he could fly along as nothing, without affecting the flight of the leaf, and the leaf into something other than what it is. And the leaf most probably would know nothing about all this.

But maybe you can still hear it, whispering "hi there, dear leafy, have a nice day".

Halloween, October 31, 2020, An Tulach. The storm has calmed a bit, the leaves sre still dancing on the sidewalks in the village.

PS: Almost exactly a year ago, Luís, the teacher responsible for recreational activities at the language school in Xela, showed the film "Coco" to a few interested students on their "free" afternoon. It was very nice get a hot chocolate served prepared by him, eat pop corn, and watch and listen to this touching movie. Two small excerpts:

Un poco loco (a little crazy)

Recuérdame (Remember me)

PS2: Thanks for permission to use the red maple leaf, not quite legal: Thanks!