Going through old papers today, I found an archaeological record of my life: monastery sleeping assignments; little bits of paper that say "survival agriculture/live like wild goose/ our ideas of zen are so insane" (I think that was to have been a blog post); and this poem, from February I think:
On shoes
drying of a cold day
I spy a lone red fox hair
I'm done for now!
I've been "done for" for a while. The only fox for miles around lives only Japanese zen tales that treat it as a damned creature. (About that time, I dreamed I was turning into a fox, fleeing for my life.)
Finding in signs what we wish to see, this hair spawned a spasm of not-entirely-joyuous resignation to the apparent fact that a certain redheaded person has affected me forever. Maybe finding signs in little red hairs is a sign that my life isn't exactly on track.
On that note, I found a wonderful British site for ecards that don't suck. There's a lot of Tony Blair there, but what's missing is what makes it great: no sappy stuff, no crappy animation, no dumb music. My favorite just builds a growing tree. It's simple to program, I'm sure, but it was a very welcome reminder that our life grows in a completely unique, completely normal, beautiful and unlikely fashion:
There are no ugly trees; there is nothing "wrong" with this life of mine.
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