Ruminations from the Temple

First having read the book of myths, and loaded the camera, and checked the edge of the knife-blade, I put on the body-armor of black rubber the absurd flippers the grave and awkward mask. I am having to do this not like Cousteau with his assiduous team aboard the sun-flooded schooner but here alone. There is a ladder. The ladder is always there hanging innocently close to the side of the schooner. We know what it is for, we who have used it. Otherwise it is a piece of maritime floss some sundry equipment. I go down. Rung after rung and still the oxygen immerses me the blue light the clear atoms of our human air. I go down. My flippers cripple me, I crawl like an insect down the ladder and there is no one to tell me when the ocean will begin. First the air is blue and then it is bluer and then green and then black I am blacking out and yet my mask is powerful it pumps my blood with power the sea i

A master's program is no walk in the park. Clutter, both physical and mental, makes everything harder. Having a tribe is a lesson in non-attachment. Each experience causes change. Authenticity brings peace of mind, but not usually applause or companions. No one can do it for you. Not even God. Gossip is like bamboo - the invasive kind, not the lucky kind. Social media is a hindrance more than a help. Fresh air is an amazing treasure taken for granted. Sincerity is obvious. So is insincerity. Everyone is ten-years-old on the inside. Awareness is a good thing.