Asparagus spears are poking their heads out of the ground. Often, i pick them and eat them, raw, on the spot. A few make it into the kitchen, where i steam them for a couple of minutes. Sometimes i eat them long; sometimes i chop them to bits into a salad.
Raw or cooked, whole or sliced, asparagus tastes like spring. It's one of the first vegetables of the new growing season. Gone are last year's vegetables--carrots, leeks, parsnips.
Out with the old; in with the new is another way to say change is happening. We are so happy to see the changes that spring brings. One delight after another. One sense pleasure after another. Happy, happy, happy.
On the other hand, change is happening. Nothing stays the same. Especially not us. Since we too are constantly changing, just where is that creation of the mind called "I"?
Look at the asparagus. We call it "asparagus" whether it's one inch tall or four feet tall, yet it is not the same as it was yesterday. "Asparagus" is a concept.
And so is "I".