The Weight of Green

I spent this morning trying to pull weeds from the patch of dirt behind my apartment. It was supposed to be a quick chore, but I ended up sitting on the damp ground for nearly an hour, just watching the way the stalks leaned against one another. There is something about the way plants occupy space that makes me feel like I am always rushing. They don’t seem to worry about where they are going or how fast they are growing. They just exist, layer upon layer, creating a soft, tangled world that doesn’t ask for permission to be there. We spend so much of our lives trying to build things that last, stacking bricks and making plans, yet the most enduring things often seem to be the ones that simply rise up from the earth without a blueprint. It makes me wonder if we are missing the point by trying to stand so tall, when there is so much grace in just being part of the ground.

Sébastien Beun has captured this feeling perfectly in his image titled A Sea of Grass. It reminds me that even the most historic places are held together by the quiet, living things around them. Does looking at this make you feel smaller, or does it make you feel more connected to the earth?