Aurelius, a pecan tree, the American dream

Yesterday this scene emerged in varying shades of grey, on a rainy cold morning. An hour ago, soft morning sunlight gilds the towering pecan, creating the illusion of autumn on yet-green leaves. 

Minutes later the light reveals the 'true' color of the leaves, which, as every second grade science student should know, appear green due to chlorophyll  (reflecting green in light). Late this afternoon, the branches will appear black, silhouetted against the setting of the sun.

Second graders also know the only true light comes from the sun, and that Thomas Alva Edison managed to invent a device to create artificial light, which we utilize in proliferation to this day. In so many regions, our man-made illumination blocks the stars from view during the night. 

We've created cities shimmering with artificial starlight. Night falls in the big city: skyscrapers reflect the glitter of signage advertising enticing venues; streetlights and security lights billow clouds of light into the heavens while protecting the millions of inhabitants scurrying around at all hours of the night. 

Granted true light for a portion of each 24-hour turn of the earth, and powering our own illumination for the other, we generally use light to see things in a manner in which WE want them to appear. It's all perspective. What our mind accepts as reality and truth remains eternally subjective to timing, weather, and perspective. How we see and understand remains completely at the mercy of  the weather or events surrounding us, and where, why, and who we are. "Everything we see is perspective, not the truth. " Marcus Aurelius 

Case in point. A southerner might see this pecan tree as a source of holiday pie offerings, crunchy bites of pecan deliciousness in a glazed delirium of sugar and butter. City tree crews might see it as a nuisance to power lines, while environmentalists embrace it as a gift of life-giving oxygen and sustenance, never to be touched.  

From the ground, a lofty haven for chattering squirrels just out of reach from guard-dog Labradors. From 30,000 feet up, a speck on the passing prairie below the clouds.   

Regardless, this pecan remains a pecan tree in any light or shadow, windy, rainy, snowy, or sunny day, until such time as it evolves into firewood or furniture. Light cannot morph it into an apple tree or an ash, nor can rain rearrange its' atoms into a palm, nor can wind reshape it into a rose bush, mesquite tree, or anything else. Long ago, a pecan dropped into the ground by chance or design. There it grew and flourished. So it shall remain until it is removed. 

America grew as the pecan did. Planted, watered, harvested again and again. Perceived in a myriad of ways, from foreign observations to domestic grumblings and accolades. Seen as a bountiful source of life, a nuisance, a lofty haven for lofty chattering persons. A territory still fought over, harbored greedily, held for ransom in domestic political battles. 

Yet America itself remains constant. Mountains soaring into the heavens, deserts stretching, plains reaching, forests teeming with life, oceans lapping at the shores. Ever beautiful in sunlight, shadow, ice, heat. Ever sought after, lustily, by explorers, settlers, politicians, and enemies alike. Ever divided by her own settlers, as to how to live within her borders, and by whose rules. Ever squabbled over as to the rights of so and so, instead of working together to honor the privilege of all. Working together to honor America. 

"Oh beautiful for spacious skies for amber waves of grain for purple mountain majesty above the fruited plain
America! America! God shed His grace on thee, and crown thy good, with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea...

O beautiful for glory-tale, of liberating strife, When once and twice, for man's avail, men lavished precious life. 
America! America! God shed His grace on thee, Till selfish gain no longer stain the banner of the free.

Oh beautiful for patriots' dream that sees beyond the years, thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears
America! America! God shed His grace on thee, till nobler men keep once again thy whiter jubilee..."

Keep dreaming. One day, we will wake to a new dawn where nobler men keep once again a whiter jubilee.