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I keep looking and staring at Mt. Lemmon as it is alive with flames and cabbage head smoke blown by the winds to one side. If I could grasp what I see, I imagine I could see everything else. I feel as I see life through cataracts. One word runs through my mind as a telling description of what I would hope to attain: — congruency. I’d love to experience a congruency between my inner and outer selves, between myself and the external world, to be at one. i believe it is more than Ram Dass’ Be Here Now. After all, what…

I’m on the verge, often I’m on the verge of seeing into who I am and then it disappears; it is fleeting, and if I don’t capture it, it is gone. As I look back I was romanticized as a young boy by movies and books. I took them seriously, apparently, without awareness. I was a receptor. We are often without awareness as we stumble into time. I absorbed without reflection, naively, openly, innocently, gestures, images, language that presented a kind of William Morris vision of Medieval Europe, not accurate, not historically honest, but like the King Arthur legends, moving,…

I’m at poolside now, late into dusk. In the distance an immense cloud is above the Catalinas. It’s as if a big fist gave a shiner to the sky. A covey of birds, new to me, strut linearly about the pool, mother and chicks. Offbeat bird sounds punctuate the lambent air, now warmly cool. It is quiet now, a stillness, except for outdoor compressors kicking in to cool the interiors. Machine hum. A bird spits across the sky like a thrown lance. Swallows are above, or are they bats? In any case the Jew is out of here. Safely ensconced,…