January 7, 2011

It is difficult for me, as I sit pleasantly poolside this sunny Saturday afternoon watching and listening to a cackling little finch in the hedge who calls for all his friends to come find what he has found, a mother lode of trail mix just hanging for the taking, God's bounty out of the blue, it is difficult for me to consider this scene, this living experience, as several times removed from reality. This is so, however, because before I can think it, write it, shape it, remember it, it is gone, and now the finch is gone, and only "I am" remains, as it has before and ever after these shifting shapes evaporate.