Giving Normal the Finger
Well here we go Thursday, my mind electric and I’m thinking evermore in the place and space of ‘just this’.
“This.” My complete sentence.
Yeah, I’m reading another book about Zen, an occasionally interesting memoir, but the spectacular nuggets, didn’t the early forty-niners note just a tiny gleam of gold under flowing waters – and that was enough. Always enough. Oh, to be a panhandler.
My, the vision of panhandling, so interesting, especially now here on Thursday morning and not only some street corner or from an apartment building doorway. Golden slumber panhandles everywhere.
Anyway, pretty sure I’m down to “Just This” now more than most the rest of my 72 plus years, dig it, so far anyhows, which I’ve been allowed on this planet.
‘This’ feels right.