Thursday, 17 July 2014

Peeling the Banana

No sense condemning ourselves; we're monkeys. We'll always reach for the banana. Heart beats, lungs breathe, mind thinks, bowels poop, bladder pees, soul yearns. And arm reaches. For bananas. All bananas. Even pictures of bananas. Even unseen, unproven bananas we're assured are there. (But now I'm back on gurus again.)

Walking the meadow I saw where something had taken a grouse, leaving only feathers. It felt like a metaphor for that summer, for this life.

And yet. And yet.

Nothing is promised, but everything is given. And that, like ango, and this life, is a bottomless blessing.


(Adapted from 100 Days on the Mountain, copyright RK Henderson. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and a generous photographer.)
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