States of Being

Who were you today, at your best moments? Grouchy hermit already missing quality dream times and rhythms when chimes greet pre-light's crust frosty dawn, to get Yang, then Yin, up and out of our sangha, ready to enter their own daytime sanghas, tired drama of such anciently perennial retired, repeat, reiterate, Monday through Friday. Notice red coal scale patterns in blackened ash logs, burning to fluffy carbon chalk, nutrient potential for some soils, although not mine, perhaps my neighbor's? Joy for a bright, although admittedly too intermittent, sun, sliding in and out of hiding. A smile, where one would otherwise have been sadly absent. Cold feeling Arctic on my ears and neck and nose and through toward my aching bone marrow, yet near my well-heated and brightly lit non-destination. Ellen Fisher on NPR saying "No one gets out of love alive." with so much enthusiasm and passion for regenerative feelings and empathic maturing capacity to manage anger's ego-offense with a strong remembering love's co-opportunity defense against high risk anthrocentric, ego-bratty behavior. Gratitude for Yin political and economic cooperative investments seeking harmonic balance. Terror of untimely rest as grace, of older-wiser intent without time to hear Earth's glamorous response, to new found mutually speaking parts and songs of dancing glances. Gently eagerly lifting blue tarp skirt of my elegantly stacked woodpile, seducing me with more hard fuel for erotic clandestine fires. Feeling Yang feeding on my trinitarian bicameral spot, sucking in any embodied nutrients she might hope to find within such grandfatherly care, laughing together at just how silly we appear even to ourselves, together. Still, yet contenting with this narrow midway modestly chasing Gods of True Love reborn long-married to Gods and Goddesses of Angry Past Deductions fueling Fear of Future's Inductive dualdark function, confluent ego-demise sinking into moon filled eco-hibernation.