As the rain falls I'm reminded of talk on dreams a few nights past. Thankfully not the usual, down the tube, recital of a particular myth perspective; but an honest to goodness look at the mythmaking process itself. The water returns to the soil and the coincident rise in creeks and streams flows through a vision of myself wading Senica creek with my pack on my head. Is there any way that this process of noticing might be focused into a forward motion? I'll head up the mountain tomorrow, if the rain lets up, or if the forecast die comes up sun.
Imagine the gap between chance and plan. The breath that sees and the breath that moves. I'm sure the motion of the rocking boat and the stomachs aboard translates well and is the same over a large domain. Remind me that when a thing seems clear, it is often a reflection in the surface. The depths may be, by definition, unknown. How would knowing change them? And what of their place? And function.
No thing that may not be. Why then any one in particular? It is the thing itself. It is an answer to a question; or a question.
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