Very tired, refinishing chairs, picking black raspberries, daydreaming lust. Fog growing from the fields of silver light.
Making sculptures of cloud and circle bird wood shapes. Not to freeze them into volume/form, but to make them. Very happy. My meditation rug has three eyes of different size. Very happy. Son sighs, boiler hums.
To be responsible to your own incarnation (honor it) is the reason why you should avoid blissing-out.
The woman yogi breathed deeper than anyone I have ever seen and her breasts under the pink woolen leotard were two slashes of muscle, curves like the calligraphy.