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Speaking of the times it seems we’re in…

This fellow resides on the street where I’ve been staying this Spring. He’s lived there for some years it seems, and although the street and tree are quite familiar to me, I never noticed his beaming face until recently.

I wonder if he’s appeared to remind me of something. The past few months have been a blur of partly-remembered dreams, nearly-focused intentions, and unclear direction.

This blur pervades my sleeping and waking, and it’s well outside my realm of familiarity or comfort.

I’ve been almost as quiet as my friend here. Description escapes me most of the time, and when I feel like I might be verging near to some sort of insight, there mere act of sitting to type seems inappropriately self-focused.

Is the point to blur?

It feels like being caught adrift in an oak blossom boat in the pollen river from yesterday’s post: swirling too fast to catch onto anything worth grasping.

A motif weaves through it all: Change Arrives.

It comes in its own good time and manner, and if Change is what I wish for, then I might as well sit back and have a silent chat with my friend of the woods while It readies itself.

If I’ve been living in a world with clear goals and rules, those drifted away with the end of last year. If I turn to look for pictures, worlds, calculations and evidence to substantiate what I think I know, I find myself adrift in a featureless sky. I resist the uncertain, but overall I find I don’t mind.

I share this with a sense that I enjoy company in this process, and the hope that my companions might like hearing from a fellow traveler. Our rough friend smiles, rooted in the Earth we all share at the moment, and I believe he’s humming a song from a dream…

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