It's time to write another of these columns and my head is as empty as the arroyo behind my house. Though there may actually be some water standing in the bottom. Even as I sit here in the depths of my 3br home I can hear singing. At night the crickets are heard most. This neighborhood is old enough to be full of elderly, large, and bulbously leafy trees which make a cozy habitat for gazillions of birds. They cause no problems for us, but you can always hear their chirps and songs during the day.
Am I getting old or something? -- revelling in the mixed of chorus of citybirds, and soaking up the rhythmic chants of crickets? Sounds rather zennish/buddhish doesn't it? Could crickets be the Tibetan monks of the animal world?
I have indeed become something that I once swore I'd never be. In fact, now that I think about it, I've become several things that I couldn't imagine being at one time. I won't list them here, because their names are not important.
What's important to me is trying on as many hats as I can in life before I have to settle into something. The trouble is now that I really have to settle into something.
But it's late and human beings, like electrons flowing in a circuit or water in the arroyo behind my house, tend to follow the path of least resistance. This path has gotten me where I am now. And I don't have much to complain about. I just wouldn't have predicted this particular result 10-20 years ago. So in keeping with that path, for now it's nice to settle into the rhythmic toning of the ascetics in my frontyard monastery and continue one day at a time.
|Weekly Reader Index|