Rolling & Tumbling

'A rolling stone gathers no moss', 'Neither moss nor sand': disparaging epithets, two among many about an organism whose epochal success, along with the ferns, outstrips all breathing creatures, including the dinosaurs; whose realm in turn makes our human tenure on this small, blue planet seem like an away-day ticket to Southend. Moss, scourge of lawn-fetishists and head-gardeners across the [Western] world, thrives in our little corner of Rachub, slowly colonizing grass and tarmac alike: not content with north-facing stone, tree or wall.

A thing of timeless beauty and the embodiment of Zen philosophy, moss is revered in the East, particularly in Japan, and rightly so. Now, more than ever, we need to tune away from the static of corporate greed and the endless assault of empty vessels clanking their way through 'political' discourse in the service of that greed: we will, if we don't address the fundamental, planetary and environmental issues that face us, immediately, fall under the bludgeon of our own stupidity. Either way, the moss won't care, as we ourselves, turn to sand, having stopped rolling for good.