It’s finally sunny, hot, hazy AND dry here in the Midwest, and so now feels truly like the summer of summers that has strung like a string through a line of pierced beads unfathomably far back into the travails of my once eternal youth.

Ah, the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.  Except that I just ran 7 miles, feel like a freelance anti-terrorist operative, and am pondering what I could do to make this day more memorable than any I’ve ever so far lived.

Perhaps I could just sit motionless on a hill and wait for the world to cough up some excitement.  Very Taoist.  Quite possibly Zen.   Except the waiting.   Just can’t wait for nothing, for nothing comes and is called the ‘now’ .

Perhaps I could just sit in the cemetery and blog all night.  Would it be calm?  Or the ultimate fright?  Or perhaps that one mosquito with a load of West Nile that can kill me would bite  and days hence I’d be laid where, just a naughty night formerly, I blogged and played.

Could get drunk!  Have I ever done that?  No, I’ve never done that.  At least, not alone, just for the sake of drink.  But I’m dissuaded of the notion by the realization that in the Amazon there are certainly yet undiscovered herbs that can make you high, and regally hallucinate, while yet endowing you with the ability to, more than ever, clearly think.  So I ponder that.

I wonder: if I disappeared into the Amazon Basin upon just such a search, where and when and in what condition would I reemerge?  Would I reemerge?  ( As if I’ve ever ‘emerged’ in the first place.)  

Somewhere, ‘out there’ , there’s a heart playful and knowing and loving and totally ‘dreamable about’ that could redirect these boylike musings of mine into a ‘merge’ of the most incredible kind.  And even a ‘remerge’ in which I might ‘emerge’ and ‘reemerge’ in the most incredible display of the beginning of no conceivable passionate end.  But is ‘out there’ now?  Or buried in a million years of dreams long past?  Or situated a kalpa just below the sunrise  and nearly beyond the almost never of tomorrow?

To be free.

To say, to comment whatever.

It doesn't have to be apropos

    -relevantly so-

or a well-struck blow.

Just free as the air you inhale

(without fail, damn you, if the economist

in you costs the air pollution).

You know, I can't stand to brand the thought. (I mean, I think I am caught by the uselessness of inappropriate expirations.)

So onward now to wordless exhaltations.

*breathe in*

*bereave out*

*breathe in*

*grieve grout*

But when the time arrives that 'I've never before had so much fun', breathe in as deep as deep can be, linger with the breath and absorb its moisture as an expression of newly-found prosperity, then shout :

Value self-awareness and self-knowledge, even unto itself.  There's so much more to this world than you'll ever be externally taught, or than 'the others' will willfully permit you to immediately behold.