Everything is surreal and intensely colored.
The garden was damp from rain in the night, the flowers and grasses brilliant.
I have been reading parts of this collection of our journey together, and tentatively marking what might interest others. What really touches and moves me, though, is not what I have written, but whatall have written so generously and with such heart. Surely the fact that I have come through this period mostly intact is in great part thanks to the deep and persistent kindness of you who, having read what I was living, have written back, lavishly.
I begin to hear my mind, in its back room, turning over the ideas and the things I want to give over during the upcoming weekend at The Abode of the Message. A week from tomorrow, I fly.
But for now, I sleep: early morning minyan calls.
Good night. Meow from both crouching, dozing cats.