A vignette by Fred Leeds
On the wall before me there hangs a beautiful painting, a still life full of bright flowers. It hangs there by itself; the artist’s hand is no longer in sight. All that remains of the artist’s design is the painting itself. The work stands alone, speaking to me with a life all its own.
That is why they call it art.
As with art, so it is with nature. There is a certain cactus that lives in my front yard. It seems to stand alone, but sun, water, soil, time, the whole of nature–all these things are needed for its existence. Nevertheless, we recognize it as something given.
That is why they call it nature.
It is just the same with us human beings. From the midst of our interdependence, we honor each other as independent–and that is why they call it humanity.
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