deep bow

I didn’t start with a yes, I started with a maybe; a slight lean into a brilliant green afternoon, between cris crossing oaks that x-ed the backroads through the country to the ferry.

Maybe all those sages were correct, that curiosity was more healing than judgement; that wisdom was somehow simultaneously gifted AND earned, and that laughter did more to wash hubris and dogma away than the world’s shiniest rhetoric.

Maybe the tree’s latticed shadows were being pulled back from my shoulders and face like a great shroud of unbecoming; pulling my own shadows along for the ride, out through the sunroof back to the branches where some spiritual photosynthesis was raring to go.

Maybe it was all some perfect mad master plan all these decades, where I needed to build the scaffolding of Me before I could climb it, see that the gallows at the top were not about the death of Self, but the death of self and maybe instead of trying so hard, I just needed to wait for all attachment’s umbilical chords to play out and dissolve of their own accord so could I continue the pilgrimage from the head to the heart.

Sounds like a yes instead of a maybe.

And 40 minutes at a cafe connecting with you help me see it again.

Deep bow.