Once upon a dream in a time not long ago while sailing the dark silent sea in the vicinity of the constellation Crux which harbors the Southern Cross, our pilgrim found himself immersed in unwritten words, wordless readings, and silent teachings, for he now understood that nature is the true teacher in all of our ways of understanding words. The true understanding of what he read enveloped and afforded him the real test of insight, what he called intuition, instinct, a sixth sense.
The stuff of the mind can be calm in one instance and treatuous in another just like the river, beneath the surface, are rip currents wanting to pull the flow of water under into opposite directions much like the way the currents in the mind work. Indeed some drown in these waters never to be heard from again while others embrace themselves in timeless fluidity.
And where do we go next oh great ocean? Will we find our Pilgrim circumnavigating just as assuredly as brave Magellan did in days of old? Why none other than the cosmic ocean the same one where Vishnu dreams the universe into being for isn’t that what we’re doing, dreaming our lives into being. So we set sail in a boat made of dreams through an ocean made of stardust to the other shore as the backdrop of our lives slowly disappears into oblivion and the next adventure unfolds.
“The fire is lit, a sacred long pipe is passed around connecting us to our forebearers, while the flickering light of the campfire creates shadows that dance onto the trees and stars.” -JC
We happen upon a cabin from antiquity next to a pond, nestled deep within a thicket made to specifications out of fallen trees. Sitting upon its rustic porch at night amidst the visual of fireflies, we listen intently to all it has witnessed, as this rustic castle dispels all thoughts of the mundane with stories of fairy circles, dryads (tree spirits) and haunted groves, awakening our imaginations.Continue reading “Thoreau’s Ghost”
“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had notlived,” -Henry David Thoreau
A beautiful Sunday morning; a chill is in the air, the sun is out, I get ready to take a four mile hike around Lake Lynne, the water level rose from last
evening’s rain making it enticing to all manner and species of duck as they glide through Continue reading “Just Like Church”