Waking up back in the old, time-wise upside-down, and a sense that all observations will be observations of discomfort. In the midst of transition there are moments of feeling somewhat brutally nowhere. Like a baby, on its birthday, new-born, (being sensitive to babies, for they know something true), crying because all is lost. Then, as an adult, healing knowledge with mantra. All is indeed lost. (This is something, but not it.) And there is a home. (And you already know it.) So repeat it until you believe it. (Good morning. Good morning. Good morning.
)…(
Repetition until morning’s end.)