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JIM WARREN

Ruminants

2/24/2021

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In other years I have looked out our island window and said to the pianist, " Look. there is a doe and a yearling  lying down, chewing their cud on the footpath."  It's safe here. Their front legs are crossed in repose, a posture not adapted to rapid takeoff. They often stay for the better part of the afternoon. I guess in another place and time,  they,  and for that matter, all other ruminants are surrounded by predators.
        Mother Nature demanded rapid food gathering by her ruminants in sites of danger. They had to be alert and always ready to flee ;  only later would they have the chance to regurgitate and break down the food at leisure in found safety and sanctuary.
         I  ask myself why I would write such a trivial matter as two deer relaxing on a footpath chewing the cud. when the world is going though such monumental matters such as war, revolution, economic fears, pandemic, shaken faith and individuals on the cusp of disaster. And here I am, ruminating along with my deer, chewing over regurgitated  " food for thought ".  Chewing snatched cud of information and ideas, pulled rapidly from the trees of knowledge,  but gathered in a hurry and not fully digested. Much of that information was gathered during the momentum of a hurried life in which I was feeding quickly.  I am now writing for myself and it is not trivial. Second sight is never trivial but re-digestion could be called "reflection", If optics are employed simply because the psychiatrists have tainted "rumination" unfortunately by making it a symptom.
       Not to criticise our psychiatric friends, but it is nothing more than having a good chew at material you bring up in order to break it down again. In a sea of troubles, we need to reach for a plank to stop ourselves from drowning.  We have to float. My plank is the ordinary stuff of life that may give buoyancy. Age gives one time to ruminate/ reflect on old information and my legs are crossed, my walker is slow,  so I can't flee.
        
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