What I'm about-Part V

I think very often about shadows. I take pictures of lovely shadows that I see with the intent of using them in a painting. I remember as a child, after watching Peter Pan and seeing him catch his shadow, thinking that your shadow was a very essential part of who you are, your spirit. Of course, he needed his spirit with him so that he could be whole, and (I'm convinced) so he could really fly. I have sat watching my shadow, waiting for it to do something independent of me. It makes sense that I haven't seen it do such a thing though. As long as we are attached, my shadow/spirit and the physical me, I think we'll balance each out and act in accord. You see, my physical being would be very mechanical without my spirit. And my spirit would probably fly every-which-way without being grounded by my physical self.

There is a leaf, it is yellow, on the ground in front of me (I am sitting out on a bench in the park-like lawn of my campus). Even though it is technically (scientifically) cut off from from its life source, it is still accompanied by it's shadow. How can I think it dead? It still casts a shadow, it still has a spirit. It still conveys beauty to me, and in a way I may have never known had it remained high in the air, anchored to the branch. Such a dear little leaf. Leaves are like feather except better because they are alive.
Why do we have such a negative view of shadows? Why are they 'scary'? What is so terrible about a shadow that we would want to 'cast no shadow'?

I wonder if pine trees look so sad because they never die? I think that's why deciduous trees are so excited- their lives come and go, they have a season of death and then are revived. Pines are old and tired. They have to suffer through the cold of winter always conscious of the bitter reality surrounding them. But then, God has allowed them to see snow, which is not something He has afforded the other trees. And maybe they enjoy being a shelter for other living things whose lives are not as enduring as their own. I wonder what they think of the flamboyant display of Autumn? I'm not sure they approve at all. Pine trees remind me of nuns.

I definitely think the Transcendentalists/Romantics had something right. Nature is obviously linked to the spiritual. God does reveal Himself through the sky and the trees and the waters. I don't agree with everything they've stated, but I do think they started off in the right direction. God reveals Himself through His creation in the same way that an artist does. One can learn the style of an artist, and recognize a work as being his/hers, just as we can see and recognize and understand the beauty that God has allowed us to interact with.