I find that one way of sensing our unity with the
universe- that is, with reaching a sense of in-depth commonality - is to take in the complexity of even the most
apparently mundane scene.
We’re walking along a side-street off the Earls
Court Road. It’s a grey London morning. You look at a parked car, and
think briefly of the complexity of its manufacture, all the physical and
chemical actions and reactions ready to burst into action when the driver
arrives.
Think of the cultural associations that went into its design, into even
just its name. Think
of it two years ago - molten steel being rolled into sheets, plastic
dashboard being moulded, computer circuits being set up..this isn't one
thing.Think of the car in 20 years' time - a rusting relic, or a cube of scrap steel. This car is in motion even when its parked. As are we all.
Look up at the large terraces lining the street.
Each storey is a flat. Each flat contains a history of arrivals and
departures, joys and sorrows. Individuals emerge from the door of just one flat
and hurry off towards their work, or school, or....?
They take with them their
stories to date, the stories they are building in their heads, the memories they
are dwelling on, remoulding and changing them in the moment.
Here’s one of those lovely large London plane
trees, just beginning to shed its leaves, moving into its autumn, maybe a
little earlier than some of the other trees, a little later than some. Every
tree varies, is unique, yet we can name it as a type of tree. Think of all that
photosynthesis, water being drawn up the trunk, insects living in the tree far
above the busy street.
We turn into Earls Court Road itself...the
traffic is a loud discombobulating torrent.
You think you know the Earls Court Road. You
don’t, even if you’ve lived in the area all your life. You don’t completely
know anything, because to do so would tie it down to one time and place. The
river of traffic in the road - a cliché but a useful metaphor if it reminds us
that the road is a slower version of the traffic thundering along it. It is all
processes, not separate things.
People from the flats go their separate ways.
You and I part, you to the Undergound station and thence wherever you need to
get to, building your own changing story of today.
I walk on, remembering that I’m
not the same person who left the hotel ten minutes ago. All is change, all is in
motion; feeling that, the traffic seems a little more bearable, part of the
unique present moment that goes as soon as it arrives.
Like that damned great truck. I
need to stop musing and concentrate on crossing the road, or - squelch. I would
become a quite different set of processes!