I
am the mocking bird in the backyard tree. My songs are myriad but none of them
are really my own. I can imitate a degree of mastery to rival the original.
Those who are the true artists are likely to mistake me as one of their number. I
enjoy the deception. And, for the most part, it serves me well. If others have
had the great thoughts, written the great books, sung the great songs, someone
else will need to relay the message in the voice of imitation. That would be
me. And through my songs from every source I enable others to hear what they
would not have heard otherwise, what, in fact, they do not even have access to
without my singing. So I sing. A teasing song that invites others to stop for a
moment, pay attention, and consider the value of such music in their own lives
…
I
am a palm tree blowing in the breeze. I admit the apparent fragility of my
construction. No limbs. Nothing more than a stalk with fronds at the top. The
truth is, I’m really a sort of weed. But the thing about a weed is, the thing
about a palm tree is that it can pretty much grow anywhere. Too much moisture?
Not really a problem. Too little rain? Not really a problem. I’m a survivor. My
situation may be harsh, challenging, even threatening, but I am there,
still, making the most of my circumstances. I know not everyone can say this.
Some are more susceptible to the vicissitudes of life. I adapt. That’s
why I’m still here, from year to year, ultimately undaunted by the force or
direction of the wind. If you know how to bow and bend, you know how to make a
stand without being moved. … 