Reaping the bounty

There has forever been debate concerning the precise time to reap the bounty of an endeavour. In the agricultural context I expect the timing is fairly easily assessed. Beyond that however the timing is less apparent, less obvious and less compelling. Whenever it is reaped, I prefer to think of bounty less as a handout or prize and more as a dividend. The object isn’t reward or payback but fruition – ripeness, fulfillment and realization.

The overall characteristic of bounty is maturation. It is that private dimension which interests me.  I confess being moored to the proposition that life is what you make it.  It hurts to attach this succinct and seemingly frivolous adage to those who have suffered grievous loss or injury; but they have the same choice as any other – laborious and painful though it may be. They alone decide how they wish to “see” things. This is not to suggest that maturity (or any other bounty) is fictional or illusory; but there is ample room for interpretation on any level.

The failure to reap the bounty (of one’s life) is a decided loss. Alarmingly there are those who arbitrarily set a future date when they intend to “start living” or some such other futile harvest. My objection is not to deny the utility of investments and savings and growth of our capital assets. It is a reminder to pick some flowers along the way.

Given the variety of achievement in life, one should at an early date learn to direct oneself to the things that matter.  Itis by far the easiest, most authentic and frequently the most bountiful path in life. Naturally one cannot fulfill every desire but chances of doing so are greater if one knows where to go (or indeed where not to go). Generally one should do whatever it takes to direct oneself to what one enjoys. A significant element of what constitutes bounty is not only what we harvest from without but also what we harvest from within. Maybe this is just my way of accommodating failure in life; but apart from that slur and preparatory introduction, I openly admit feeling as though I were looking through a magical lens. There is just enough friction that survives to “keep it real”; but the psychedelic aspect is otherwise unmistakeable.