Chapter Six

Somedays the world seems like a peach, so delectable and sweet. Nutritious and wondrously organic, rich in every fibre it contains. I wake up and bite right into its juicy body, taking it with me throughout the day until it turns to waste. I could harness its’ powerful energy to cultivate the person inside of me. I could accept its’ calling as a glorious living treat and divulge in the essence of the Earth. Ripe and lush, perfectly ready to be plucked.

I breathe in deep and close my eyes gently, thinking of the beauty before me. I imagine its’ texture, and its lightly hairy shell. I think about the inside, bursting with flavor. It illuminates my soul and I transcend my own inner delusions. With this I can break the chains clasped around my ankles and begin to walk free, leaving the shackles scattered on the floor. I become weightless and ambitious. The sweetness in the fruit runs through my veins and sends sparks in my brainwaves. I become the Earth, and the Earth becomes me. One solid unit running through the course of life carefree and wondrous.

I distill the peach and allow it to ferment. It races through my body and numbs my mind. Brain stems pop and I can feel the buzz engulfing my shape. The intoxication slows me down and leaves me yearning for more. I become addicted quickly and never want to let go of the beauty I drown myself in. In the night, throughly masked in my drunken state of affection for the peach, I am liberated and on top of it all. By morning the feeling fades out and I am left with the empty illusion of a past greatness. It becomes something powerful to strive for; I long to feel the allure of the wild Earth once more. In the morning my head pounds and aches. The thought, or thought of a thought sends vibrations ringing in my ears. My eyes squint in pain and I am reduced to a loss. I cannot focus on the development of a more mature approach, for as I find it, it gets plucked right out of me at the sight of recognition.

It is a vicious erroneous cycle trying to find the balance between Nature and Nurture. There is an invisible line which I may cross back and forth hundreds of times a day. I think for myself, acting only on impulse by plucking the fruit. I see it, yearn for it, and rip it from its’ nurturing clasp. The sweetness transforms my identity. Since I have tasted it before I have a preconceived notion that they all must taste like this. With that deadly assumption, I take refuge in the idea that this fruit was meant for me to embrace. But, perhaps, shouldn’t I recognize that this delectable fruit may wish to be embraced by others? Has the selfishness of my own regime suppressed the necessity of caring for others? -Possibly. But, while I enjoy my treat, chomping generously and fermenting the liquid, I immediately forget about others. And, in my drunken recovery, I wish to only grab more for myself, in fear of forever loosing the beauty I procured from Nature.

But I thought too long, and now its gone. It sits still up upon that tree lifeless and decayed. The peach disembodied itself and has a distinguishable odor. It is no longer soothing for the appetite or the eye. It appears ancient and gone from the present, trapped in history? I begin to look at it as the lost city of Atlantis, knowing that I will never find it in time. The mystical fruit and all the stories of such a wonderful beauty seemed so far in the distance. It seemed unobtainable. Such richness flowed from that peach, and every time I spot it and run for it, by the time I approach it has faded into the distance.

I was sure that there were herds of others swarming in, plucking the fruit and being sent to Atlantis. It was the only thing that seemed possible anymore. All the peaches left were dead and decayed. I suppose I must have missed my calling. I was outdated, and in turn fermented myself. I became toxic waste. I remember a time, or at least think that I remember a time, of sheer wonder and curiosity. Where I would climb the branches all the way to the top, and search for that one, plump and magical peach. I could look out from the top of the tree, up and over the canopy and see the wonders of that marvelous city. I’d sit there for hours, eating my peach and soaking in the radiance around me, all-the-while my eyes sparkled with the gleam from the city.

I stand looking up at the withering peaches above me. I’m sure that there is a ripe one somewhere near the top, but my feet will no longer follow the rhythm. I close my eyes in fear of myself, and tuck back down inside the depths of the soil. I close off all surroundings and melt into the Earth. Maybe I will wake up soon and see the Spring dazzle the trees will goodness.

Chapter Seven