I was just now deep in the spiritual meditations of Anthony De Mello - foucsing on the meaning of silence. Suddenly the sound of an electric chainsaw started up abruptly right outside the house. We live in an end of terrace house beside which there is a common grass area bordered by some beautiful, tall beech trees. One of the trees had grown exquisitely graceful and low-hanging branches that brushed the ground. The branches were long, strong and supple and had become a favourite play area for all of the young children on the estate. Every sunny or dry afteroon a crowd of them would play there - happily climbing and sitting in and around and under the branches. They seemed to gravitate to its beauty and in some way appreciate it almost like a friend. They fondled the leaves and hugged the branches or just sat in it talking and laughing.
I don't need to tell you what happened, do I?
I found myself translated from a deep spiritual reverie to a bawling lunatic yelling at two astonished tree surgeons fom an upper floor window, and asking them what the hell the trees had done to deserve this. The branches were obstrucing nothing, not even overhanging a walk-way (a potentially capital offence for any tree).
The explanation was that the 'Residents Association' had ordered it to be done. That would be the busy-bodying, anti-nature tidiness zealots who have, together with the wretched 'Tidy Towns' committee been driving many of the townsfolk to distraction. Personally I think a firing squad is too good for them. They should have their limbs lopped in the same manner as the trees. They should be sprayed regularly with all the vile chemicals they so assiduously use to drown out any poor little weed that dares to pop a leaf up out of the ground. They should be crowned by one of the luridly purple-flowered, twee hanging baskets with which our town is festooned every summer. The hanging baskets appear to be the only form of 'nature' that they can understand: i.e. nature as prettified, forced and - most importantly - controlled and restrained by themselves.
I'm going off now to see if De Mello has anything on understanding and forgiveness with which to help me out of my rage.



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