The scarecrow principle is that he has none. But he accepts all.
The same as he accepts everything else. It rains. Good. The sun is shinning. Ok. It snows. So what? He accepts it.
Old, stinky raggs clothes him. His old carcass is rotten and he is ridicoulous (or sinister, or whatever) with that fancy hat and all. People laugh at him.
Crows and other birds are scared of him (that the jist of it, no?)
But then they get used to him and start sitting on his shoulders. Or head. They even shit on him. So what? That’s life.
On the other hand, artists take him as a model. Some may even paint some bloody masterpiece with him as main character. They even wrote poems and made films with him. Big deal.
Since he was planted there, in the cornfiel (or wherever) he has to be there. No choice. No legs to take him far away. For what? Is there faraway any better? Maybe. Maybe not.
Either you stay put and the world whirls around you or you break the sound barrier in a fancy Porsche, what’s the difference? None, whatsoever.
The say – the Japanese, is it? – that you arrive at your destination when you cease to travel.
Anyway, the scarecrow accepts that too… He is. As simple as that. HE IS. As long as it takes…
Copyright text and image @ dan iordache, 2009