This morning what I am thinking of is circles:
The sun, the earth, the moon;
The life of each of us that begins then returns
To our home, the circular world,
Even as in our cleverness we have invented
Invention – the straight line…
This morning what I am thinking about is circles
And the straight lines that rule us
While earth abides in all sorts of splendors,
Knowing its limitations. The light
Of every morning curls forth,
Oh beautifully, then circles toward the dark.
Obama works, prays, then grabs his scrim of sleep.
For five days I have seen every sunrise, and every sunset. Round each day goes and I don’t know what day of the week it is. Roundness, wholeness, belonging suffuses the air. The rivers upon which we travel, the Rupununi and the Rewa, resist the straight and narrow of human culture as they curve around the hidden splendors of the forests, macaws, toucans, orchids, and Amerindian children. Yet, I cannot keep my mind from work, from thought, from inventing some kind of project to keep this beauty safe. I write here for this blog, I keep a bird species list, I journal. What if I were to just breathe? Would I find the rhythm of these 500 year old trees around me?
What happens if you were to just breathe with those you love and admire?