Flowers of Autumn

Is there anything more real than nature? I know that is kind of a "duh" statement, but there is so much truth to it that I think we honestly ever seem to realize. I mean, how many of us actually live as the freshness and "reality" of nature is just that? How much time do we spend indoors as opposed to the outdoors?
I wonder what it would be like (or even possible) for humans to live like elves do in Lord of the Rings or in Mercedes Lackey's "The Enduring Flame" where they live so closely in harmony with nature that sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between what is natural and what has been formed? Why do humans gravitate so much towards cities, noise, and closeness? Is it a sly trick by Satan to get us away from the beauty of God's creation and the thought-provoking nature it provides to us? Or is it simply the ways of mankind, how we exist and live best? 
Interesting ideas to which I have no idea about and have no true value in life, but they certainly are intriguing to think about and wonder. 

Yesterday afternoon I went to the Cumberland Falls not very far away from school. I went for the purpose of getting away from school and getting into nature. 
When I first started out I had the aroma of musty leaves filling my nose, but I also smelled cinnamon. The presence of Autumn is being fully felt now with the weather as well as most of the trees being leafless or nearly there. But I realized that I had not really felt the full force of the beauty of Autumn while being stuck at school where trees are limited and life just pushes and pulls you to keep moving and keep busy.
Being out in the middle of nature I found myself fully realizing and then appreciating the change of seasons and the orientation of my second favorite season. I found myself seeing the "flowers of Autumn," a phrase that is going to be the title of a poem soon, and loving it.
Despite being by myself, my trip was mostly enjoyable. I was clambering over rocks, sitting in the sun on a rock, and enjoying the weather.

Nature has this way of making me feel pensive, reflective, and introspective. Whether I actually do a lot of thinking isn't always important; the mood is rather soothing and silence is often best served in its presence.
Actually, most of the time, I don't do a lot of thinking, just a lot of feeling. My mind is free of any work or school related responsibilities and can wander in simple and pleasant solitude, in peaceful and heartfelt silence.
So that's how I spent a couple hours at the Falls: sitting on a rock, soaking in the sun, and just...being...and feeling.

Job's God

Can you lift up your voice

       to the clouds

And command them to

       rain upon you?

Can you choose the path

       for the thunderbolt

And cast its brilliant light

       across the heavens?

Can you bring the stars

       to sing praise

In the morning colors,

       Each by name?
...

"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure" - Ravenclaw motto

The house in which I believe I would be placed if I ever made it to Hogwarts

Mansfield Park and True Friendship

I am sure there are not very many people who have read Jane Austen's "Mansfield Park," but as I finish it up for a literature class, I am struck by a very keen fact: the value and verity of friendship.
In the novel we have young Fanny taken into the home of her aunt and uncle to be raised in better circumstances than her own family's could afford. The only person truly considerate, kind, and a friend to her is her cousin Edmund.
Fanny falls in love with Edmund while he is fixed upon a Miss Crawford. Time goes by and Edmund is seeking to propose to Miss Crawford until a rash of incidents throws the family into distress and Miss Crawford exposes the lack of principle and morality that Fanny has seen almost from the beginning.
As Edmund suffers from the impropriety of his two sisters and the sickness of his elder brother, he cannot forget the pain so harshly felt under the reality of Miss Crawford's true character.
Ever has Edmund confided in Fanny, in spite of the pain it causes her, unknown to him, and it is the same at the end of his pursuit of Miss Crawford.
He relates the event and conversation that passed to reveal what he has been blinded to with a great deal of pain. Fanny, as ever, is sympathetic and tender as she listens to him and then cements what Edmund now realizes with her own knowledge of Miss Crawford's want of principles.
At the end of the second-to-last chapter where this revelation is revealed to Fanny, the despair and loss Edmund now feels at this blow to his love and desire for Miss Crawford, something becomes quite clear to both reader and Edmund: "Fanny's friendship was all that he had to cling to."
This seems to utterly typical of love stories where one person is in love while the other is completely ignorant of it and often in pursuit of another; all the while they confide in this person who secretly loves them and is coincidentally their best friend, never realizing the pain they cause to the one who is actually closest to them.
Yet, when their infatuation or fascination with the other person (so often not a good person, but somewhat different and intriguing it seems), they are back to where they were: with the person they care about the most and who cares about them the most.
This dedication speaks to me of selflessness, loyalty, and love tested through fires stoked by the object of their fealty.
It is the ones who stick with us through it all that have true merit. Those who never leave us and who can always be depended on, even though we may sometimes fail to see it or fail to realize it.
When all else fails, it is so very encouraging, poetic, and renewing to have someone to fall back upon. To be there to hold us together as we fall apart, to pick up the pieces shattered on the ground, and ever so gently, nurture and mend us back into one piece.

The Observer

 
Standing before the rugged tree,
Harshly cut into a noble cross,
I beheld three men on a tree.

There seemed nothing remarkable
About them before my keen eyes.
Bruised, battered, and broken,
Bloodied and borne up with disgrace.
Surely a fitting end for a criminal
Of such a mighty empire.
...

The Courtroom of Life

                 I was waiting outside of the Judgment Seat of Christ and trying, without much success, to calm the butterflies that raged in my stomach and flinching whenever the Almighty’s gavel pealed out like thunder, pronouncing the judgment of yet another soul. After the gavel had sounded, one of the door wardens would call for the next person to enter the courtroom.
                In a land where time has no literal meaning, it’s hard to be patient. Watching others go to their eternal fates and waiting for your turn is a very apprehensive task. You don‘t want to be called and yet the burden of the unknown weighs so heavy on your mind.
                I waited for what seemed an eternity, watching thousands of souls go before me. Then, finally, one of the angels guarding the pearl doors called my name, summoning me to face my doom, whether it be good or ill. My heart began to race. I stood up, forcing my knees to quit shaking, lest they drop me to the ground.
...