A crown of thorns set on the head of a sacred temple cat: a reminder of time’s animal nature. You can picture it now, can’t you? We were all there once. The trick of truly knowing is found in arching skillfully towards letting go. Seamless detachment. Watching it all shade away, violent and lovely. Like wisps of smoke billowing over a geomantic clowder of volcanos. A vision, a flame, dense air, thick with smoke, a sliver of gold and yellow moonlight.
Get out under the stars every night, if possible, because to see differently is to live differently.
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Today: sweet black sesame soup on a Saturday for Saturn’s day, a candy-colored stripe of watermelon tourmaline, music in the key of C, the low rumble of a freight train in the distance, and the road-opening succor of black hawthorn.