The road is long long long! There are times that I wake frightened, looking at the last weak string holding me connected to this world. I look at this string from the edge of my bed, which could feel like edge of the known universe to me,a millions of miles away from the surface, (and isn’t everything an illusion of our perspective?) I look at this string, to this self that I have defined, to this self that you have defined for me, I look at it long, with messy hair, dry mouth, and all the morning look. Looking down at this string weakened by urge to depart, by urge to dissolve, I find myself like the oil sitting on top of the water – there, and not there. Then comes the invisible hand, and cuts the cord… “oh no”, I say, “Oh shit” I say. Fearing I’ll be adrift forever… but little I know and forgetful I am. For when I am adrift, I am the most connected. So, every morning I wake up, and meditate on remembering this: Always have a bowl of water, and a slice of bread for the invisible hand that may come, let it cut your cords that tie you to your bed and self.
When I had no roof I made