Cascading.
storms
Once it starts to cascade time drops off like a bandit and electricity increases along power line towers busting through transformers and into a lamp by way of 40-watt bulb, covered with a lampshade made of wood. What occupies my free-space-time? Where has the undoing work disappeared to? Fractals and flows to who knows where? No reason to care, horrified and enjoying life on a daily and momentary basis. What terrifying tricks of the mind provide for this “I,” misidentified inside a boxed life, boarded up in a cabin in Northern Minnesota for 20 Winters in a row? Every sparkle of moonlight off the corner of snowflakes brings delight. A million million of them fill my memory, and the nose still remembers what it felt like to draw a frozen breath on still moonlit nights at Paul’s cabin. There is a time and a space now to choose, to chill, to follow joy and embrace–togetherness. There are infinite ways to blow it, to destroy it, to ignore it. To distract oneself from it. To poison one’s very point of view. Of course you can’t see it. Ha ha ha. Yet there is a way to persist, to determine to follow through to the end, beyond doubt to success in every realm, in every perspective and every way on every path to nowhere.
