The Gentle Art of Ignoring

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The Gentle Art of Ignoring

On your marks!
Get set!

Race to ignore the traffic sounds
Beneath, in the streets and reach toward
The landscape beyond, fight to see trees
Or squint and see the heritage houses covered in ivy!

It is not a gentle art to “ignore”:
It is VIOLENT and takes energy
To divert our thoughts, beliefs, bodies
Beyond the reality of NOISY cities!

On your marks!
Get set!

Bolt to Nature, for what is “natural” is indeed
Where you notice your body retreating
RELAXING, your being flows
A branch scratches calves, humbling with its markings.

GO! Buy that boat you’ll only use sparingly!
GO! Get the tent you’ll use only at vacation!
GO! Purchase hiking boots, which replaces therapy!
GO! Spend gas to get peace that’s temporary!

On your marks!
Get set!

The Man in the Suit has won “his place” in City
By devastating his nature and his being
He expends efforts, sweats violent urges
Covers up his wish to surrender…

Because can you really ignore a thunderstorm?
You hear it.
Or the hot sun heating your skin
You feel it.
Or the long Canadian winter
It depressed us.
You can pump your paddle & fight the current
Upstream, but you’ll never win.

Nature – the forests, desserts and our ecosystems within
is where we rage our harshest devastations.
Rumi says we’ve got a voice inside with no words, do you listen?
Sorry, what did you just say? Too busy fighting
Modernity, Technology, the Traffic outside my building,
promising “an investment” in what – my insanity?

See the man with the hands down on ground
Trying to feel the Earth, dirt, create roots somehow
But his position is back-breaking in spite of his class
He is on his mark, set and ready to take it up the ass.

Humans may have evolved to stand up right
But they are Devastators, few are getting it right.
The trees though, they stand tall and straight
Until a natural, noble force breaks them.

Or until Human Devastators cut them down
Much like they’re doing to themselves right about now …
Fighting so hard to ignore the sounds, a shout

Get me out.
I’m clawing my way out.
Thought I had evolved
But I can only grow if I crawl now.

© Sylvie Hill 2014

Art: dixon / “Devastator” / 40x40cm / spray paint and synthetic enamel on canvas / 2010