Point, or Thin Line?

Reading for 3-14-2010

“There's a fine line between genius and insanity”...........I have heard it said ~ I know not by whom ~ but have become convinced that there is a fine line between anything and everything else. Furthermore, it is the very place ^^ ~~ wondered about in my childhood at that Lawndale tree ~~^^ where one step beyond could be made with God. I call it the point, and am humbled, while elevated; alone, while with everyone; anxious, while serene; saddened, while blissful........... when there. The more I let go of what my parents were fond of identifying as “me, myself, my shadow and I” - the more I am there........and the more souls inspire, invite, and invigorate.

For the artist, scientist, nurse, teacher, artisan, child, parent, and philosopher in us , there are just times when musing: infinities, dreams, levels of consciousness, callings and the essence of our very souls - just has to get in line and wait – like everybody else's entrancement – while overriding priorities arise...................like survival.

And so it was, that day in the Fall of 1970, “upcountry” from Aburi, that such a priority arose.

I reference Aburi because it was about halfway between the town - where I taught – Koforidua................ and the capital city - where I sped to get information for the project that the high school class had chosen. Aburi, also had the best roasted chicken in Sub-Saharan Africa; and, was a stone's throw from a view across some 40 kilometres of the Accra plains to the Gulf of Guinea.

From Aburi, the rapid, steep descent to sea level necessitated a switch-back road. On that route, high up from the waters of the the Atlantic ocean and the diagonal line of underwater volcanoes in its equatorial gulf, there was a hair-pin curve. At the outermost point of that sharp turn, its roots grasping the rock wall and its outstretched branches in prayerful supplication for sunlight, was a mango tree. Its trunk stretched over the cliff, into the  warm, moist tropical air.
 
Eight feet or so from solid ground, the tree had made its first branching.

Any sense of my class project, along with the everything of - books, dream interpretations, physics, and metaphysics, were vaporized – for I had paused my charge down the escarpment, climbed the tree, and fell into repose..................... in palm of hand Divine.

There, the mangoes were of such a perfect yellow, that the color itself, was alive.

…...........to be continued........................

Join Captain Flip Side every Sunday in his true life adventures...........

happy daze,

the Captain