It's not always perfect, but sometimes it comes pretty damn close...
Image by John Gibson from Pixabay
Zen was drifting through old layers of hypnotism and new found wisdom going spare on the borders of neither here nor there, and all this wrapped up in a great big beautiful morning that had come up over the sea and was promising to be hot.
The rosemary ghost sniggered from the bushes out of sight.
Incessance was a weight that was bothering her, even though she'd spent an hour meditating. It seemed like her time meditating was more a contemplation of late on whatever was uppermost in her mind. Hard to let go and go deep when the thoughts and emotions are all mixed up in their perpetuating energy.
Coming towards her along the road was a couple walking side by side: a young woman who looked like a white yeti, and a young man who looked like an abominable snowman dressed in black, and they both had very dark sunglasses on, their shadows dancing beside them in the sun as they walked along.
And of course it was so close to tea time as made no difference. That is, it would be if time would stop slipping backwards.
Image by Trang Le from Pixabay
"Sometimes morning's are very strange," thought Zen, and blew a note on her little whistle she had made from a piece of bamboo, then raised it high and blew some more; wadi, wadi, brrrr, err, ee, chi, chi, wadi, dib, dib, dib poolyay, jit, jit, jit, jorm, wadzee.
The couple who were just walking past her, on their way to the city, sat down in front of her, legs crossed, to listen.
It sounded to them like a train and some birds were in deep discussion: chew, chew, chew, bring a little minute, wadgee, chewp.
"A tasty bit of existentialism," thought the couple in their mind meld.
A coffee cart came by, so Zen stopped playing and got three coffees and sat to drink with her new found friends.
As they watched the cart trundle away towards the distance, a black bird flew into their midst and landed between them.
"Where's my coffee?" it said, like a train on fire.
Image by Alexas_Fotos from Pixabay
"Déjà Vu," thought Zen, and put her whistle away.
"Swark, squawk," went the crow, "swark, swark."
And with that the coffee moment was over.
Zen stood up all the way and looked at the long road pointing away into the far distance. It was a good day for a walk.
Image by Johannes Plenio from Pixabay
The crow flew off into the thereabouts with a scramble of black and squawk. A small feather from its tail drifted back down to land where it had been standing.
"Now is that a message from the angels, or what?" said Zen, picking up her stuff, ready now to set off.
The couple were taking it all in with their eyes, like some profound happenstance they wanted to record to pull out at some later date and say: "look!"
Zen looked at the couple, and they looked at her.
"It's all now," said Zen.
At which the couple nodded at such deep meaningfulness.
Zen gave a little sigh, hitched up her pack, and set out along the road.
"See you," she said, over her shoulder, "don't let the bugs bite."
Images from Pixabay
