Loosening hold

I watch the Sun sink slowly down in bending light and eat honey with my bare fingertips. Horsetail grass is calling my name, as are chamomile and baby mulliens. The heat reminded us it was Summer today and my sweated form remembers a form of sensuality; a curvy, rounded enjoyment of the temporal, a bare-footed, tousle-haired thick Sunlight. I love the smell of corn, of misty moisty mid-Atlantic forests, of bee-dappled sunflowers. August is now upon me, and, as every year, I wake up to the reality of Summer: in perception almost past us, in reality only just now reaching its height.

How strange to watch my surroundings as some sort of cinematic lecture, pouring out in strange shapes that which is needed. How strange also to feel lonely and harried at the same time. Just tousled about and empty; bloated and still hungry. How sad I have become and yet I how much that feeling has replaced one of stiffness, a strict hold on living. Given the choice, the decision is easy. So much is already given to me to take care of, so much would I waste by bashing it into concepts my limited understanding could grasp. Like relinquishing control over the Summer garden, simply to hold open hands to the fountain of tomato and broccoli gone to flower. All the sunflowers know what to do, and I look to them in admiration: when the swelling energy of life becomes so all-embracing and uncontrollable, turn your face upwards, and calmly follow the Light.