Sunday, July 10, 2016


Long and wide paths there. The little breeze coming in and showing itself to be jovial, like a song where there are steel drums- that is how the breeze was then. The valley is to the right and the coyotes have not been seen for a time. In fact, they have not even been heard. Maybe they are back to being nocturnal and had gotten off their schedule. The red berries are there, - and white ones also- or a light green-gray breed. It’s hotter than usual. Even inside of the forest- under the tree cover. But the ground itself is cool enough- and so strewn like a wonderful mess with old pines, the snakes, toads, logs, moss, many birch trees,- and this is not to mention the spiders, moths, butterflies or dragonflies that seem to live near the end of the path before it opens up to the round fields. What is there (question mark). There are yellow flowers and white ones, purple types also. Seeing all that, feeling all that, - is one thing- but there is a knowing- a Gnostic phenomenon that kicks in round there. There must be vortex or a special grid, - a group of angels or guardians- something. And there is such gratitude when the click or shift, - the mini-awakening, happens. Then the journey is continued. The field is gotten to. Before that, - the wild raspberry bushes started showing up. Now they are really blooming- the splashes of red against the verdant leaves behind. The confidence of color. Yes and its everywhere. Sometimes it’s the red of berries, at others it’s the yellow fields, and there is in-between green and orange bamboo, the blue sky- sprinkled here and there with white,-and so it goes. We sit for a bit on the edge of it all. Things are quiet, serene, wonderfully detached. There are no words for once, and is a song of silence. Then a bit of a breeze, as mentioned,- jovial. How long and wide the paths are there. How well wrought the open spaces,- confident with color and sacrosanct for their simple pleasure and being. 



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