I am a tree–ok, I was a tree.  This time I’m a walking tree.  They are my kin and comfort me when my walk on this human path seems so rocky, muddy, foggy and I stumble.  Whether a tree or a human merely being, how am I to be the sky?  The endless blue background of emptiness, everything and nothingness at the same time.  letting the clouds of each day roll by or rain without comment.

How do I center in the spirit when I am a cranky squawking crow fighting for my tiny morsel of good on this precious planet?

That is, of course, the question.  And I know the answer, no matter how many times I pretend to forget.

What was I saying?