Five years before retirement my father in law posted a note on the refrigerator, "Everyday throw something away." I have come to realize the profound wisdom of this advice. Letting go is the enlightened path to contentment.
Time and terrible violence scripted these four-thousand foot hills, Every stone under foot has a fantastic tale to tell and the deep river gorges, patiently sculpt, sculpt, sculpt.
Three obituaries in a week received from contemporary friends reporting their parental loss, all extraordinary lives compressed within single column widths and limited to given story lengths.
The double chamber, the grit, the granular source and collective pit of one's corporeal time accelerating each instant through that check valve of now/then, . . . that drop zone below the present tense.