Wednesday, June 17, 2026

The Earth Laughs in Flowers (Hamatreya by Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1846)

 



 

"The desire for ownership of what will eventually own you, is a basic human attribute." He told me the first time we fished next to each other on the same pier.

 

I met him in Baltimore two decades ago, on a fishing pier. A man in his 60s who held an unlit cigar at the corner of his mouth while patiently waiting for fish to take the frozen shrimp he had

offered to striped bass.

 

"They like moving action to strike, and rarely take the shrimp.  But it is most challenging to catch the ones who do not behave like members of their school. "

 

And I fished next to him a few times, as he always sat at the same pillar; used frozen shrimp for bait; and never lit his cigar.

 

I saw him catch striped bass once. He said a few words to the fish I could not hear, and to my surprise, released it to the waters.

 

"That is where it belongs" he shouted to me. "She smiled at me before going back."

 

... I read pages from Waldo Emerson this weekend. As I re-read Hamatreya, the line

 

“Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys/ Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs”

 

made me remember the man on the pier, in Baltimore. He was not boastful. And he taught me that no one owns the ocean.

 

The flowers are the Earth's laughter, according to Emerson. They laugh at us humans when we believe and claim ownership of the earth, of nature, and all surroundings through which we live our ephemeral life, and return to the land and sea we thought we owned.

 

And the man on the pier, whose name I have long forgotten, thought that the smile of a fish, freed of the hook in its lip, is the gratitude of the ocean. 

 

He admitted and celebrated that we are transient. And that nature - rock, dirt or water, will never be owned by humans.

 

... Maybe one day, secretively, he will light his cigar before his passage is being owned by the ocean, next to a pier, in Baltimore. He will be the human from whose lips  the hook of life had been taken off.


And he will be smiling and grateful.

 

PS/ I wrote these lines while in the waiting room to meet my new Primary Care physician, in Colorado.

 

June 17, 2026

© Vahé A. Kazandjian 2026

 

 

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