Meditative Prose
Saturday, 19 January 2008
Lily
It’s a good thing the seasons change gradually. If I woke up tomorrow and it was seventy degrees, and the warm wind was blowing in off the lake, and the dogwood blossoms were falling, I would quit my job and sit in the park all day long like a buddha, feeling the grass under my bare feet and blessing everything I saw. Dogs would come to me and I would bless them and set them running. A dog could know my joy.
If I woke up tomorrow in Lewisburg under the big blooming magnolia near the river, with the bumblebees flying overhead and my old friends a few feet away, talking and sharing an apple, I would sit a while just listening, then burst into tears and burst into flames, and send my spirit around the world to light a fire in every person. Wars would end. Peace would break out. The parties that night would be epic.
