On Being Alive This Eternal Moment

It is possible to sail against the wind, but it requires a certain skill and patient use of your ship's capability. You don't sail directly against the wind, but you sort of sidle up to it, tacking first this and then that way.

And thus it is with the truth. The truth is like a wind that blows from eternity to -- where? -- nobody knows...

An old friend asked me a question the other day that kind of took the wind out of my sails for a moment, so to speak. I had earlier written to him that it had been a most wonderful summer up to now in the Happy Little Kingdom and he wrote back, "How do you define a good summer?"

Indeed, what makes a summer day "good"? Ummn, yeah, what is it? The experience of a day as being good is what?

It's not blue skies -- although a good summer day needs some blue, it also needs some clouds to sort of help define the blue. It certainly doesn't have to be dry, a bit of rain is okay, as long as it doesn't drizzle all day long. One thing a great summer day needs is a morning with the sun playing with the clouds and the trees, revealing soft and delicate colors.

Bird song, of course, and the odd thing you happen to see -- like a fish heron being heckled by some seagulls, for what reason I have no idea and neither the heron nor the seagulls thought it worth the time or trouble to give me even a hint as to the reason for the altercation. The heron took the skydives with a certain stoic resignation and finally decided enough is enough, unfolded its wingspan and flapped away, followed by a small contingent of seagull hecklers.

Meanwhile, the morning sun played colors upon the clouds and blackbirds were singing their hearts' joy at being alive this brief yet eternal moment.