Light is the gathering of all colours into one. Silence is the chorus of every sound before it is born. Emptiness is the womb that carries every thing. To look at light is to see what has not yet been divided; to listen to silence is to hear what has not yet been spoken; to stand within emptiness is to feel the potential of all that will be.
The flow of time wears down stone and memory, leaving only the river, carrying all within it.
If the past is pressed into us, we become more fossil than flesh. New moments layer on top, distorting what lies beneath.
The mind, impatient for certainty, crowns its own echoes with the authority of fact.
I met a cow in a field who fixed me with her gaze, so I sang to her. Her ears pricked, her whole stance attentive. When I said my goodbyes and walked away, I turned back—she was still staring, as though weighing me up: “Not bad for a two-legged calf.”
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