7.12.14 As A Toad Swallows

     Sometimes I feel like my life consists of me dancing about on something akin to a Twister game pad. And I dance from one round primary bright circle to another, never knowing where I will land or where the places went that I landed upon previously.
     But now and again , I do find myself firmly on one place I recognize- and I can feel the solidity beneath my feet . And in that moment, but not before, nor after, I recognize The Place.
In that stilled moment, betwixt all habitual chaotic unpredictable flooding of stimuli and response ,
I suddenly have the recognition that this is my creative jumping off place, where ,
     if I could just stay long enough,
     I could leap.
     And in that differentiated leap, I would encounter the concrete ability to initiate, participate in,          and follow through on the creative possibilities
     that swirl about me and beneath me and by me and through me,
     much like unseen but very substantive Neutrinos- every moment of every day.
     And then of course, poof, and I find myself pushing off, not by choice but by biological impulse.
     As a toad swallows. As a Swallow sweeps the field. As a Field Mouse is born and mates and prepares for winter.
     So go my leaps , on and on and on; nomadic, amnesiac, left with an odd sense of loss, of malaise.
     And lost too is that sensation. That moment of recognition. Even that place.
Until, by chance, at some unexpected, unanticipated time to come, I land there, just for that moment, once again.                                                                                                                T 2.7.15