Yesterday.
The front door has glass you cannot see through except a little square in the center.
Today, from a back window. A light snow at dawn. Apparently there was a little garden out back.
I bet it could be a great animal watching place if I plant something.
I've tried my best to repair the audio issues with Feel Free. I think it is ok. I am in the process of proofreading to make sure all content is in order and nothing got lost. I will reopen the site next Wednesday, and do my best to catch up and complete part 2 of Patchwork in Perspective by the end of October as planned. And then... your guess is as good as mine. There will be, most likely, a big space. But space can be like a thread. If you hold a longer view.
But staying light.
I couldn't get to the post for Thought Catching yesterday. But I kept at it. It's here.
I have just noticed that the sewing chair has worn thin.
There are always patches.
Is confusion not knowing? Or is it a softness that comes to protect you from knowing. A cloud to rest in.
I don't think there is any better way to teach but by example.
That is how we teach ourselves.
If we are lucky, it doesn't take too much time to realize that knowing is an obstacle to that.
I flipped solstice over. Took the background out so I could look through. Solstice past and solstice present. And I can imagine solstice future very clearly. It is formless. A dream. And I can't wait to see.
And just like that, I realized that Patchwork in Perspective has suddenly taken on an evolutionary aspect. I need words, but they shall come, in time.
Today we drive to a house by the sea.
Who knows?
I carry my cloud with me. A temporary Coma.
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