midpoints

The moulding wetness of the last few weeks had dried to a fine autumnal haze, a midpoint twixt a fleeting summer and the oncoming hibernatory season. Crispy deadness scrunching through summer's memories as I shuffle off to work.

My internal balance found once more as I shed my own-made obstacles in favour of a freeness of spirit. My last winter fed me sea and salt while summer faded too early. Sun baked warmth leeching from tanned flesh faster than it should.

But naught to fear since the cinnamon call sings persistently in the back brain waiting for opportunity to arrive.

amalgamation

We define/analyze/interpret every experience through the amalgamation of knowledge & action applied to sensory input. Rarely can one separate out a single sense, thought, or movement and say "There, it was that.", because we are all like baked onions. Semi-transparent layers on layers soaked through with demerra sugar and real butter, all jumbled together and impossible to pick apart. The onions sugar and butter inter-are*.

Like a memory that surfaces "a la deja vu"  bringing the past into the present, enriching/polluting the now with the then. Sense memories creating the range of predilection you inherit through your experience. Nothing really ever stands alone.

My head and heart & soul have always been filled with the cacophony of aroma that is my primary memory sense.

The blog is an expression of how I inter-am.

* Thich Nat Han

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