inquiry

Funny how mood and weather dance.

But, then, what isn't funny about this seeming existence as an alleged free-willed nexus of individuality?

A wee bit humid, sun poking through, dinner in a state of preparation, an “Oh my God, it smells so good out here!” from my wife near the grill on the deck just outside the sliding screen door.

And it does. I think I'm actually smelling roses from this laid back position on the family room couch.

<a bit of a conversation about the theoretical role of humidity in wafting odors about>

Life – like “self” – is fine until polluted – if not denigrated – by thoughts about it.

Best to witness, find the path back to the raw witnessing of awareness sans the danger of getting caught up in re-flections thereof.

For I am that “I am”.