“Through what fierce incarnations, furled In fire and darkness, did I go, Ere I was worthy in the world To see a dandelion grow?” ~ G. K. Chesterton
The common dandelion (otherwise known as Genus Taraxacum) could be considered a scapegrace or wannabe of the daisy family, for it is indeed part of that family, as repugnant as that might sound. Yet for all of its gold-like splendor, man spurns it, forgetting that it was forged in the divine mint of a Creator’s mind as currency for joy. Nevertheless, in all of its hated existence, it does stand out as being an example of the command, “Be fruitful and multiply,” and the process with which the dandelion carries this out is through a process of drying and striking.
The drying of the dandelion comes after the flower (yes flower: I will call it a flower, for that is what is) has been properly pollinated and flowered for its fruit (or in this case, parachutes) to mature. The drying process takes a couple of days, usually one to two, after which the folds come off, revealing the cotton sphere of seeds tied like soldiers to their parachutes. This globe has been referred to as “dandelion snow.”
Upon reaching this stage, the next begins: the striking. This epoch in the existence of every dandelion is carried about by you, me, the wind, grass, falling leaves, and any object that finds itself convenient enough to disturb this happy summer snow-globe. Upon blowing, or being struck, parachute and seed disperse with speed and purpose, even as the soldiers of D-Day, to the ground where they will be planted in order to start the process over again in a matter of days.
Thus, the process is complete: from summer golden-sunshine to winter cotton-snow, the dandelion has filled its existence with more flourish than all the others of his family. Though it may be a wannabe or a scapegrace, to be met with the sight of a dandelion after the trials of “fire and darkness,” or emotions high and low, or tempers often hot, or shoulders often cold, one comes to the conclusion that it, like a lions tooth as its name suggests, bites and devours the cobwebs of tomorrow and ushers in the light of the sun—the sun, as yellow as its peddles. It is indeed God’s currency for joy!
I’ve always liked making album covers to the albums in my iTunes library that don’t otherwise have one. These are two of my latest and greatest. Enjoy.
“And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Romans 12:2
There is a spectre and demon that haunts the good man. This demon screams loudest when good men stand tallest. He pushes and drives and urges towards weakness and depression. He presses and drones to destruction and passivity. Hold! Yes: his destructive purpose is passivity, for gray twilight makes bats blindest.
He is a tedious beast who never rests until you give in—he is the cousin to busyness, only differing in tactic and style. When you rise to speak for a worthy cause he shouts you down, when you walk to carry out a plan and purpose he whispers your inadequacies, and when you set your face like a flint he laughs at you and causes you to doubt.
He always stands on the mid-cliff, calling you down from the heights and up from the depths; never desiring either your joy or sorrow, but only sharing in your boredom.
He was there before Adam’s fall, and he urges you towards yours. He is the younger weakness to an older strength, purpose, but lulls it to sleep through half-baked dreams and cockeyed schemes. He is relentless when you are tenacious, and he never stops until you ever cease. He is busiest until you are laziest. He is life’s paradox, its worst paraclete, and its greatest para-dink.
He advises the causes to life’s greatest sorrows, and is present to all their births. He himself is neither life’s greatest wrong nor right, vice nor blessing. He stands taler than the others but shorter than the rest. He is only just so-so.
When you walk slow he tells you to walk fast, and when you walk fast he tells you to stop. When you take the lead, he shouts that the back is best. When you slouch in the back, he says the front is better. When you whisper in gentle counsel, he softly says, “Harder!” When you point out another’s weakness, he screams, “Softer!” All is better elsewhere, and everything is nothing unless you have something else.
He is Mediocrity and Malcontent: a two-faced and double-minded fiend. When you point the finger at him, he points it at someone else. When he is to blame, another carries the shame. He is man’s first sin before his first fall, and the cause of man’s first great divorce.
I have yet another Chestertonian quote, from his book, Tremendous Triffels,the chapter entitled, ”The Advantages of Having One Leg.”
“All pessimism has a secret optimism for its object. All surrender of life, all denial of pleasure, all darkness, all austerity, all desolation has for its real aim this separation of something so that it may be poignantly and perfectly enjoyed. I feel grateful for the slight sprain which as introduced this mysterious and fascinating division between one of my feet and the other. The way to love anything is to realise that it might be lost. In one of my feet I can feel how strong and splendid a foot is; in the other I can realise how very much otherwise it might have been. The moral of the thing is wholly exhilarating. This world and all our powers in it are far more awful and beautiful than even we know until some accident reminds us. If you wish to perceive that limitless felicity, limit yourself if only for a moment. If you wish to realise how fearfully and wonderfully God’s image is made, stand on one leg. If you want to realise the splendid vision of all visible things— wink the other eye.”
I found this today: some thoughts by Milton’s on free-will. From Paradise Lost, Book V, §519-543.
To whom the Angel. Son of Heav'n and Earth,
Attend: That thou art happie, owe to God;
That thou continu'st such, owe to thy self,
That is, to thy obedience; therein stand.
This was that caution giv'n thee; be advis'd.
God made thee perfet, not immutable;
And good he made thee, but to persevere
He left it in thy power, ordaind thy will
By nature free, not over-rul'd by Fate
Inextricable, or strict necessity;
Our voluntarie service he requires,
Not our necessitated, such with him
Findes no acceptance, nor can find, for how
Can hearts, not free, be tri'd whether they serve
Willing or no, who will but what they must
By Destinie, and can no other choose?
My self and all th' Angelic Host that stand
In sight of God enthron'd, our happie state
Hold, as you yours, while our obedience holds;
On other surety none; freely we serve.
Because wee freely love, as in our will
To love or not; in this we stand or fall:
And som are fall'n, to disobedience fall'n,
And so from Heav'n to deepest Hell; O fall
From what high state of bliss into what woe!
