That’s the feel of the day. Temporal distortion, accompanied by a melancholy of the Now; from, by, and for Now. As if the trail from the Zendo will suddenly lead to a completely new vista, previously unmarred by your optical tracks:
But the trail is long and offers many challenges:
It’s slippery with disconcerting loops and lapses:
As the bear said upon reaching the peak, “The other side of the mountain is what I see.”
I’m not sure what the purpose of a goal is?
Embracing melancholy, it too is hollow & empty all the way up and all the way down.
Returning to where you’ve always been but different.
I was told by a Gurdjieff-trickster who I met when I first vagabonded my way to San Francisco while I was re-negotiating my baseline after a reconstructive psilocybin experience and throwing pebbles into a still pool in the Golden Gate Park’s Botanical Gardens, “It doesn’t matter how many times you fall down, it’s still your path. There is nowhere else to fall but on your path.” Of course, back then we didn’t record the minutiae of our lives.