anywho, i am thankful

for pens and self-made pads tucked into cushions or on side tables around the house. I’ve written in three places this morning already and have yet to eat breakfast. Morning equates openness, but then at some point a curtain closes, the bubble bursts though I don’t want it to. That’s what the tattoo is for: to bring me back to that bubble. Can’t explain it any other way. 

I wrote most of this a week ago but did not post it. The tattoo may not always bring the bubble back, but it makes me smile. Slows my breath.

so simple … every hour of the day is the same — the air is the same — the light is inside, it cannot be turned off

within, within
this is where the world’s treasure has always been

Tao Te Ching – from verse 62

August 12, 2018 snippet paper-clipped to these notes: I love, love, love mornings, its quiet and enveloping tranquility, and, once August begins — at least in my part of the world — the liberating darkness (which is so shackling at night) that surrounds me. Astonishing, perhaps it is not darkness that contracts my mind and tightens my soul in the evening. 5:34 a.m.

ri-di-cu-lous — today — that thoughts could shackle me

open the door