In certain seasons
We may be nourished by
The idea of the carrot
More than the carrot itself.
This poem comes from the book Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin. Read for the Humboldt County Library Book Club, the premise is gaming, of which I possess little knowledge, but I still discovered that philosophical moment within the above phrase. A member pointed that out, that I dig for deep-thinking moments to ponder and reflect about the meaning behind the author’s words. This becomes an instant of awakening.
In Zevin’s work this arrives in the next-to-the-last chapter so I had to commit effort to read to that point. I rarely quit midway through, especially with a book club on my schedule, but this novel, definitely pushed me to remain vigilant and to persevere. With unlikeable characters who don’t communicate and programming language that I have not actively studied, I am glad I forced myself to adhere to the rules and complete this read, if only for these valuable words.
One of the gamers has designed a game for a dear, on-again/off-again friend. He loves her but does everything to turn her against him. She loves him, in her special way, as she wades through self-doubt, jealousy, and various affairs. Neither verbally admits that their friendship is profound, though he creates this rather simple game with a focus on her. In the game the girl decides to garden and thus becomes captivated with raising carrots (note the poem above). OK, very simplistic, but here is an intense reminder: Sometimes we are so immersed in a product or timespan that we forget to enjoy and celebrate the wonder of an object or action. It isn’t the carrot that is magical but rather the joy of selecting a planter, seeds, and soil, digging in fresh dirt, sprinkling the plant potential, watering, waiting, watching, and eventually harvesting. Thus, while the end result produces a treat, the process holds the power
Too much?? Think about your favorite dessert. Mine almost always involves chocolate – the darker and richer the better. I wander the candy aisle, choose a favorite, pay and haul it home while imagining the tasty treat ahead. The morsel is a gift, a reward for whatever endeavor I’ve started, worked on, or perhaps accomplished. Sounding sillier? When I sense success, I gently unwrap the chocolate promising to savor each tidbit, allowing the delightfulness to extend. Then suddenly I realize I have bitten down, chewed vigorously, and that the enchantment has vanished. Momentarily awesome, I failed to relax and appreciate the moment, the idea.
More concrete, Lynn and I trekked the Ruby Crest Trail several years ago. We purchased gear, studied the trail, listened to recommendations, starred potential campsites, and scheduled our drop-off point on Harrison Pass. Leaving in the late afternoon after a few hours we found a creek, rummaged madly to get our tent set up and water boiling for our freeze-dried dinner as the cool night rolled in. Day 2 included a rigorous climb to Overland Lake, 7 miles, but not bad as the lake is a sparkling gem. We felt isolated but spotted three young men camping at the far end of the lake. Getting up early for Day 3, the roughest, we passed “the guys” and commenced our 14 mile, 6,500’ elevation gain. The biggest concern is adequate water as once we exited Overland, it’s a long walk to North Furlong Spring. The second biggest is “beating the young’uns”. This part of the hike is when the “carrot poem” comes to mind.
Worried about getting to the end with enough food, water, and energy, I plunged ahead focusing on camp at the end of the day instead of the magic of the Ruby Crest ridgeline. We rested periodically, but I forgot to experience the miracle of the sights and sounds around me. I lost sight of the purpose of this exploration, only looking ahead and not around nor back. I knew we’d make it – that’s who we are – so why did I rush onward in such a mad-dash of hurry? Of course, that’s who I am. Munch the chocolate at breakneck speed and then contemplate what I missed.
Lynn is not thrilled to repeat our trek, but I have some friends who are interested. We hope to set out in late July for fours days of exhilarating adventure. Already as I prepare I mentally chat: “It’s the idea…”, the mind-boggling beauty, that counts, not the end.