Sunday, October 23, 2005

At the end of today's journey, I spoke with a graduate student outside of Shafer Street Playhouse, while his adorable puppy licked my hands. It was an aggressive little thing. But what of the journey? Well, it began as a search for a place. A place where I could sit, relax, think, and learn. I envisioned some high hilltop, warm and breezy. Thick green grass cushions my bottom. I meditate, and become nothing.

Well, that doesn't exist. As I retraced my usual steps uptown, I began to think, and think, and think some more. And I realized that I had no place, that there was no silent sunlit dojo where I could contemplate the nature of existence. But the walk, the rhythm of the day, the synchronization of color and sound created a "place" that could not be recreated in "dojo" form.

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