The sun is warm and penetrating today – the sort of warmth that sinks-in slowly, like stepping into a warm shower and letting my head hang – relaxed – my tangle of hair creating finely spaced streams of water that flow over my face and down my body – forming a translucent womb that envelops me in the simple happiness of warmth and moving water. Feeling the chill of a small exposed area on my shin, I tilt my head slightly to move the place where the water and I merge, sealing the break in my cocoon. It feels so good. So pure. So complete. No thoughts. Only a saturating connection to formlessness.
Tag Archives: Calaveras County
Preserve the cabin. My mountain refuge.
Be in the moment. No. That’s wrong. Be the moment. I like that better. No, actually, that isn’t quite right either. Just be. Be!
Now that I’ve written “be” a bunch of times, it doesn’t look like a word anymore. What sort of word has a “B” and an “E”. That’s just weird. Be. Be. Be.
Feel the aches in my muscles and be happy that I can move at all. Continue to enjoy the ability to climb scaffolding and contort my body into yoga-like poses (painting as yoga!) to reach that one little spot I missed earlier in the day and although the size of a pea, is now certainly the one place that myself and all visitors will peer and wonder what sort of painter leaves a blemish like that. An incompetent one, that is for sure. “Gosh, it all looks great. Very pretty. Except for that crater sized paint-hole. Did you do that on purpose?” Seriously. It doesn’t really matter.