To consider it, is to drink it spiritually. Why is spirit fluid, when we are not? If wine is spirit, is not water, too? Why our constant need for transformation? For spirit as intoxication? For the radical trope that gets us off a sound stage into padded cell where all that's heard is heart beat and breath. Alone, we never yet arrive at solitude. The bearded man in a wing suit jumps from a helicopter, flies through a triangle in the rock's face. Or, the French billiards player makes balls do what balls cannot. This passes for science on our television, but we prefer miracles. Radhika loved the guy who made 100 dollar bills out of ones. But what of the man who does the reverse, brings wing-man back to earth, pockets his balls and goes to lunch? Do we not honor him with just reward, absence of shoe leather or tablet? One commandment instead of 10? Let go, says mind to self, interrupting. Rude, mind.
--25 January 2015