LIFE AND DEATH IN THE RHIZOSPHERE

Drawing shallow acrid breaths, I bounce through this terrible scene at approximately 70 Miles per an hour. So this is God’s country? Asphalt and Fluorescent haze tumbling over the horizon.  Blight, precipitated by the industrious spirit of “Post War” America? A species thrust ever forward by the haunting specter of self-preservation.

We are not so different from the ants, colonizing the forest floors, paving avenues to devour the sick and dying. But as I wrestle with the maddening futility of all that has been done in the name of our continued existence I find solace in one simple fact: that I am going to die. As per our species customs I am going to be placed in the earth, or perhaps burnt and sent down a winding river. Either way my comfort and joy comes from this irrefutable fact. I will die.

As my flesh is ripped from my bones and my spirit wilts into the stones, and my very being is torn apart by the worms of the earth, I will break down; back to the building blocks in a beautiful dance of energy, that all former living things must endure. Solidarity with the dead and dying.  For soon, just beneath the surface our resurrection begins. Tiny bacteria and microscopic fungi begin to fix our broken down nutrients to the root bases of plants in symbiotic harmony. The lowliest forms of life on this planet go to work digging through our fetid remains, rifling through the landfills, the oil spills, the rubber tires and refuse of our 3000 year war against the earth. The nutrients and compounds that once formed our vibrant and dynamic lives are now food for the flower that blooms, the tree that gives food, the gentle grass beneath the lovers tryst.

All our efforts to be remembered, to preserve our legacies in monuments, in broad avenues, in temples and towers… why can’t we just be ok with this knowledge? As the grains of our lives become fodder for worms, and plants, and the beautiful cycle of life continues, maybe, just maybe… those who eat of our recycled flesh will be nourished by the passion and energy that guided our lives while we had our turn to walk on this earth. 

Fill my lungs with dirt.