By now, I can slip into the place where all of my thoughts hover, ebbing and flowing in tiny eddies. I imagine my mind into a big vat of boiling sap. My thoughts foam on top and I skim them off as necessary. Below that is the roiling sea of embryonic ideas. And below that is the place where the sap turns into syrup, thickening to slow moving amber. This is where I want to be.
Apr. 28th, 2015
This weeks Sunday Six comes from an essay on mediation because it's finals and I'm very busy.