Through the tiny window

Since the door to the back garden has become a no-go area, I’ve had to find another way to get into that bloody garden. The mini swamp right outside the door means that a swarm of wasps is forever buzzing around.

Not to be deterred, I squeezed through the small bathroom window and managed to get into the garden. I went to the far end to have a closer look at that single bright red poppy that blossomed out of nowhere a few days ago. The grass is so overgrown now that I can’t see my shoes as i walk across the neglected lawn. Green stems keep growing upward in thick clumps, flies, bees and wasps buzz around, and the small pond is covered in dead leaves and mud.

As soon as I reached the far end I felt like Kara - the heroin of my little story- for a split second, except I can’t stand bugs and keep chasing them away like a mad woman. The wilderness of that neglected bout of garden is like a condensed glimpse of nature left to its own device.

Suddenly, I felt insignificant and small, but in harmony with the fact that everything that is alive around me is in fact in the same boat as me. We all share at least one common destiny, from the tiniest blade of grass to the fox that wanders across the garden at times, to the human being using his brain to make sense of everything at once. We all live to die in a never-ending cycle of life and death that gives the world as a whole its beauty. We’re all speckles, and when looked at in detail, each speckle pales in significance.

But take a step back and look at a gathering of such speckles, and beauty emerges strong and powerful. In some ways, it seems that perfection doesn’t lie in the detail, but in the whole.