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Somehow the Christmas tree escaped the attic and showed up in its usual spot the day after Thanksgiving. I did not put it there and I was surprised to see it. The sight of it inexplicably infuriated me. Last year’s lights were still on it, but otherwise it stood unadorned. A week passed. Every time I walked by it, fury. November passed into December, as it does. The tree stood undecorated as presents came and went beneath it. Christmas came; Christmas went. The tree shined its naked light. Then it was January. January kept happening – day after day after day of it and the tree stood in stark indifference. Then suddenly and undeniably it was time to decorate the tree, so this happened…

It feels a lot better now.

So far this is how February is going:

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The routine walk opened this chance encounter with The Other. The Little Ones look to Him for cues about what to do about this turn of events. He’s looking at That One while she pretends she doesn’t see a thing. Nope, nothing to see here. What are you looking at? All stood still in silent dialogue in order to learn the Truth about things.

“You may be stuck in your costume…forever!”

I encountered a wake of vultures on my walk today.

This species does not have a syrinx, so they communicate with ghoulishly spectacular hisses.

“The basic human need to be watched was once satisfied by god. Now the same functionality can be replicated by data-mining algorithms.”

—Morpheus, Deus Ex

“Show your work!” Do math teachers still say that?

This is just a little bit of the messy business of creating something new and a few of the steps involved in my process of getting a dance from ear to “here.”

🤎💛🧡 🍂 🍁🧶🦊🌾🧡💛🤎

Scenes from a late September walk along the Mississippi River.

The Lotus

On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying,
and I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained unheeded.

Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south wind.

That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed to
me that it was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its completion.

I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that this
perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own heart.

—Rabindranath Tagore

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