Grab the sharpish grass, those small cuts martyr
Hands that gripped the slightest horn of hold
Ascending time's sheer wall.
Rise and look, feel fully, hear it well,
This spectacle, and please do not want more.
Nature out and in, the river, thoughtstream,
Panoramic heaven, sweeping hell.
Ask the bird; it wings, that is its task.
Ask the tree: its answer is to grow.
Ask the bending meadow, ask the river,
Ask yourself; your answer is to ask.
So again that anguish rises strong
Again such toil for nothing, wasted fray,
When with ease and ringing fear a sidestep -
A dive to where you live, there all along.
And diving, dive into the frightening others.
And falling, fall into the fruitless battles;
So flying, to the base, and to the home,
Spinning all the tales of all our brothers.
Plummet through conclusions swift dismissed.
Rocket through assumptions banished fully.
Plunge amongst rejected, blessed comfort,
Not the goal, or needful to resist.
The grassy meadow bed will do on landing.
Along can come what may, a bear, a wren,
Forever in repose, forever standing,
No more "to be" and nevermore "again".
The clip is from Little House on the Prairie, which doubtless had a strong influence on my persona's formation as I was nearly obsessed with it age 10-12 or so. Unfortunately I couldn't find a shorter clip, so for the purposes of comedy, stop watching after Mrs. Olsen says "It's a miracle!". Sometimes, the story unfolds in such a way that only a push will get us over the edge.