stoned soul picnic

“In Chinese legend, the cuckoo will call until her throat bleeds and turns the azaleas red.” – Joan Sutherland.

I had a conversation with my main man Gavin in Oakland yesterday, and noted that the sense, the actuality, of being “all-in” with anything – this within a conversation about my meditation – was more vivid and close at hand than at any previous time in my life.

Also, I received feedback from two people yesterday that yesterday’s post here in Couch Surfing contained a quality of sadness. Which is something, as I experienced the writing of it as quite joyful.

“Rags and again rags, wearing rags all my life — I somehow get food on the side of the road; my hut is left to overgrown mugwort. Gazing at the moon all night I chant poems. Getting lost in flowers I don’t come home. Since leaving my nourishing community, mistakenly I’ve become this hobbled old horse.” – Ryokan.

See. Crazy joyful.