Recent happenings close to home have bewildered me by day, terrified me by night. Yet, the shroud of fog begins to clear. I see outward, through the windows to my soul. A sense of tranquility replaces anxiety and confusion. A calmer state of mind allows me to sort through the simpler things. Scattered pieces of life's puzzle come together of their own accord; my intervention is neither required nor sought.
What I have commonly referred to as the past, I now realize, is not a block of time and events disconnected from today, but life and living's continuance through to this present moment. A flowing stream, irresistible, from that so-called past of no discernible nor recorded beginning.
In that timeless flow from then to now, I see myself not as participant but on-shore observer. Rushing past me are images of people and buildings and books. And so much more, the more of my former childhood surroundings that have edged their way into my today's reality. It is a continuation of what I started out as and what I continue to be ...
Through nature, through nurture.
None of this is so unusual ...
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