Past truths

Journal entry 1999


I walk outside to grab a look the the sky clothed in a beautiful dusk sunset. Great skies. So big. I was about to turn back inside but thought. No. Stay. Listen to your soul.


Then from above the pine trees, through the pink sun, under the grey blue skies and half sickle moon three geese honkingly flew.


Two in front and one behind.

As they cleared the top of the moon one cried out and the last one joined the first.


I wish I could find a way to describe the wind moving through the trees. Maybe it is not wind. Maybe it is everything speaking to one another in one continuous movement of atom to atom. Air to air ending in a soft burst past my ear.

I just know that something in my heart that was rigid and unmoving has no choice but to respond to the gentle pattering of leaves and their flickering light and shadows.


Leaves and my feet on the ground and beautiful grey and green arms reaching up and out. Filled with moving pattering green in front of a sun blue sky. A big round white cloud hovers in the background.

What does the little yellow green bird see? Does he see me? Does he think? Or is he but an extension of whatever he is surrounded by?


For mitzh.