There comes a ripeness to a word, to a thought, like raspberries growing beside the road. Raspberries hang on their stems, first green among green leaves, nearly unseen. With sun and rain they plump, soften and blush with color. When ripe, they're juicy and red, ripe for picking, seeking to survive by luring birds and bears to eat their fruit and spread their seeds along their paths. Nature uses its wiles to ensure raspberries, birds and bears survive. So words often ripen in our minds and sow themselves in some sentence or fragment of thought to spread themselves in other minds through speech or written word and go on to seed themselves and bloom again, nourishing some other near or distant minds.
A ripeness can come to a person, an idea, a time and if the confluence of idea, person and time is propitious, moments of historical significance emerge. There is need now of such a person, an idea in this time. Are they ripening, like raspberries on bushes or words in minds? Will they sow their seeds where they will germinate and flower? That is my hope.
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