7.2.15 I want to thank you all, here, for what happens. For what you do.

You see, I come here and begin to write what is ruminating, rumbling about and itchy to come out. Small things. Larger things. And then, pfft, off they go.

But now, I come here, and see what you’ve gone and dug up. I click on posts you have found, and shared with others, and I think “Hmm. What was it they liked here, and here?” and then I look.

I read an old post, and I think, oh, what a day that was! 

Or I think “Wow. What a rumbling-bumbling-on thought that was.” 

Or I remember the very moment when that one leaf fell, and I was struck, standing there, imagining the entire life cycle it had experienced, until that instant when it was loosened from it’s branch, and floated slowly down through all these molecules and neutrinos and all the funny human-found words we have for what is. And then that leaf settles into that iridescent dark puddle of so many late fall leaves, in water that almost froze last night. Crisp. Clear as the air we each were breathing that day, wherever we were, at that moment, when the leaf descended and landed and settled and began decomposing, after a rather glorious season in the winds and rains and dappled light of the forest.

I sit here now, the feeling of so many moments in your life there, as you read this, and my life, here, as I write. The moments happening all over the earth and the moments happening in the neighborhood where you are. In the place where you sit or stand or lie down or walk right now.

So here I find myself, thanking you for giving me moments. Yours. Mine, back to me, after you peruse and decide to share, and I notice, and I go take a look, and boom. There we all are, in that moment of time, once again.