I think I'll go out and water the weeds. So that later, I can pull them up after they have grown some in the warming sun of the day. Zen-ish. A farming koan.
Today, a day of shifting things around. Moving things to be in a new configuration. Picking up a fragment... placing it in a way that, in combination with that other part, it now makes a new whole.
Exciting to start; and daunting. The day stretches out in expectant putter. There, with line, screw, tape, and even hammer, all the day to pick up the clutter.
With setting sun, the parts now whole. Clutter put up. A new place made. Yes, that sounds like a lovely Saturday.
The wonder of transitions. The fact that each day, lived fully is a transition. From that of sleep to that of sleep again. Each day, the breath of living. In the dance with others, knowing that each part... it is all that wonder of transition. That which was in the morning is passed away and gone at setting sun.
Passed away and gone. Be it laughter and joy or sorrow and sadness. As a wave upon the beach, crashing on and then quiet to back in ocean.
The wonder of transition. The only part of living is that shift in the changing moment. The new ripple in the stream. The leaves falling in fall. Yes, it is what it is. In joy of expectant moment. In the rising song line. In the rising harmony.
The wonder in each transition. To move from a step to a step.