Nest building

   I took the picture below as I passed the small pile of stuff seen below. It appears to be comprised of mostly grasses and perhaps a few small twigs, and I imagined that it was gathered to build a nest when I first saw it. It is spring here in San Francisco, and many of the birds around Stow Lake in Golden Gate Park are preparing for, or have already had babies.
   As I thought about it a bit, I figured that what is in the picture may not in fact nesting material, but perhaps the leftovers from a lawn mowed nearby.  Anyway, it got me thinking about material, in general, and it's relation to that which has not yet been realized.
   Most people that visit the park seem to focus there attentions on the babies already born there, but I find it much more beautiful to see a blackbird or great blue heron with a few sticks or dried grass in their beaks. The image holds the idea of the possibile before the completed task. Even a nest, finished as it may be, can hold this potential for me, especially when there are only adults visible in it; the likelihood of a developing life in an egg or eggs below remains hidden, almost literally pregnant with possibilities.
   To embrace the idea of the unseen is so wonderful, because it involves keeping my senses and self open to what is around and inside of me, including feelings, smells, and the minutiae of the physical world.
   As the grasses in the picture below could have been used to construct an object for something which has yet to exist, the process of writing and the words that I choose to use are the materials that I find available to construct and realize ideas that I have, and the ones yet to formulated.

Perhaps my next blog entry is in there