Thoughts and images pour in like a frenzy, like bees into their hive. So much happened, yet so much is the same. Faces and memories, memories and feelings, feelings and change, change and Darwin, Darwin and adaptivity.
Yet, paradoxically, so little seems to have changed. Two years...then and now. Much is new, much is old. Yet, responses and reactions to both are similar. an inherent nature, some would argue. Maybe... and if the thoughts are the bees, then the mind is a tree and the hive a branch that holds houses those bees..
What if the tree on which the hive rests has changed much? Is the change perceptible? Or those who perch on it and have done so for aeons do so without even realizing that something fundamental has altered? Maybe, maybe not. Time is a great healer they say..and they could not have been more right. Some wounds, once so raw, have magically disappeared. Healed completely. Maybe certain scars have been left behind, but none on the surface. Those that exist but make the bark tougher and harder. The claws that pawed the bark belonged to felines much adored. Hence, forgiveness is easy and natural. But the pain not forgotten...and probably never can be. To the world the wood is strong and healthy, untouched by the ravages around it. It can withstand whatever it faces, weather any storm and shelter all those creatures that are lost. Maybe...but the fear remains. Of the pain...
Heh. Ways of the mind... always worth much contemplation..
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