As I drove home from work
on Friday evening I saw one hawk in the hawk tree, about 5:15 p.m.
This morning is grey and empty-headed. It was a pleasant weekend and the morning's greyness is pleasant enough. The only problem with being in this place now, today, is that one cannot be in a thousand other interesting places. I want to wolf down experience of the world, to take it in great bites. Yet the need to see deeply means one cannot flit from place to place but must put down roots.
It rained a little during the night. The streets are wet.
As I head north on Highway E, the car in front of me spits up some moisture off the asphalt. Mist hides the distance. The young and fragile plants in the fields take in moisture. The donkeys at Five Corners look wet and disheveled.
I want so much to want nothing: that is my failing.
"I want so much to want nothing: that is my failing."
Ah. Yes; well, that would be the crux, wouldn't it? This was beautiful, as concise as an echo, and it somehow gets at the ineffable enormity of that heart-hunger for life, and more of it than can really be had and still "live" in any deep way. Thank you.
Posted by: Soen Joon Sn | May 23, 2006 at 01:32 AM
Hi, Soen Joon--thanks for your good words. The hard part for me to understand and accept is that it is not about me; it is about something much greater than my puny concerns. I don't know why is it so difficult to get over myself and begin living the mysteries that are all around us?
Posted by: Tom Montag | May 23, 2006 at 06:45 AM