That last post (#we are winter) came from an unhappy place. I lay awake after 3 am stewing in toxic juice. My faults and failures. The future as seen through a glass darkly. My children’s generation broken.
The next day, between sessions, depleted, I looked up Alan Watts, curious after seeing the film “Her” about this man who I, with a deep post-sixties aversion to gurus, had assumed wrote bunkum worthy of the eager boys following.
I dozed during the reading of The Book.
When I awoke the curtains were luminous–not a transcendant luminosity for sure, but the glow lifted my spirits. The universe is a peopling universe, Watts wrote, in the way that an apple tree is an apple-ing tree.
Let us apple and people. Let us come to fruition in the light of each other’s hope.