My love of nature is a paradox.
I love its beauty – I celebrate its incomprehensible abundance of species and ecosystems – Its cycle of creation, decay, and reincarnation.
But I don’t consider my self as a part of nature. Maybe I even feel superior to nature?
At least I try to control it. Because human nature strives for control. It imagines the world as a large and precise clockwork, where everything becomes predictable – not at least itself. I enjoy the view of a well-measured rectangle with grass, where every straw bares identical color and length.
I mow my lawn. To show nature – and my neighbor – who is in control.
Maybe I fear if nature has its way? – unruly and savage – destroying the dreams I created on my squared paper?
Maybe this is why the more rational of us, limit ourselves to imitate it in plastic and concrete – a nature that doesn’t remind us of our decay.
Completely manageable – frozen in a perfect second.
Or maybe I’m just desperately longing…