There is the flow of the Way, rushing bubbling rippling chattering over under around and through all that is: compassion, flexibility, acceptance & joy. And there are the rocks that make the river look so good: strong, anchored, sharp, tumbling, forceful and staid–that get polished.
Thus is a portrait of a human–me anyways–a tiniest speck of river and rock. One part of me emotionally flexible and always flowing free spirit, happy, joyous and free. And that part of me that makes this earth-bound experience an adventure: resistence, dirty, messy, edgy and hard. The spirit infusing the dirt, being a body that breaks down, dissolves and polishes smooth like an agate perhaps in a neverending somersault, pushed and thrown and stuck and real.
River from source to ocean continuous love. Rocks of the planet, rebellion into gemstone.
my old cat sits on my desk next to me while i type words, his coat endless. what is he? we observe each other in wonder, delight. what is he really? i call him cat, but what is he? i call him he, what has that got to do with anything? he is content not to call me anything for the time being. he watches me then turns to the window. i am grateful for his space.