We say it will rain and it rains. Robins have a way of moving through the grass that is unlike a snake's. In which the "breather" becomes breathing itself.
One has the feeling of having passed through the useful parts of their life and can settle now into simple observation. Better than attention? Oh I am all ash, the next hard rain or strong wind will deliver me piecemeal unto the earth.
Be prosaic, please, pragmatic. Experience shrinks to something the size of a postage stamp. There is stillness, there are appearances, and there is narrative.
Stop signs misinterpreted as speed limit indicators. Hoof prints in the backyard where the neighbor's goats grazed, none of us noticing until hours later. I feel as if I am watching a vast cosmic flower blossom.
Contextualize it! Sites of learning that remain challenging, distracting, insightful, et cetera. I cannot separate landscape from the one with whom it is shared so, in that limited sense, no, I don't have a favorite part of Massachusetts or even the back yard.
Were it not for you I would not be able to feel as if I am watching a vast cosmic flower blossom. Trying to be willing. Breezes stir the crowns of roadside pine trees, causing them to undulate as if in the sea.
In sunlight, without movement at all. I did not want to leave, nor understood why I should be so content all of a sudden and why for the life of me I cannot stop trying to possess what is beautiful.
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