It could take a tribe to find the way back to what you love. A day's wandering could become a season, then another. At times it may all signal chaos. But take heart. Sometimes there is intelligence even in the crumbling of things.
The creek is wearing its usual disguise, braiding and unbraiding itself through narrows and pools as it pleases, proving its force by taking the path of least resistance, taking apart the stone one grain at a time.
If you were water, what part of your will would you be willing to dissolve? Which of your ways would you have to learn not to want to have? And how, if you always ran downstream, would your desire know how to live?
A fragment of fence long trampled by those who needed most to pass. Pilgrim, immigrant, refugee, all journeys severe, all made in longing. Most cross over what's already breached, but the step is long and touches down In a world that takes heart in the breaking of what divides.
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Klee died relatively young and his style changed as the inevitability of death became inescapable. With great seriousness in one of his last paintings, Klee announces that death is a purifier, like fire, and a means to fulfillment. This is the once terrible, seen as the most beautiful. This is the real power of joy, to make us certain that beneath all grief, the most fundamental of realities is joy itself.