In a Perfect Circle

I thought to myself today, going about my duties of the emergent spring, that the only thing actually negative in my life, were the words in my own head to describe events that were not in front of me

Still brown slowly coming to life forest in front of me, its joy radiating on wind going back and forth and back and forth like the tide on a warm August day at the shore

That was what was real

Oaks and maples and pine all moving and shifting in the bluster of early April

And maaan, the only thing out of place, the only thing interrupting my joy in this great big gorgeous exhalation of the universe that we call now was the harassment of my inner dialog; a carnival barker carrying me away from now, to an imaginary then, that just doesn’t exist beyond now — where I was, and needed to be

To be present

Is

To be

Clear

To be 

In love with life

Without fear

Now is real 

Listen for silence, there is magic,  the voices of the forest will speak to you in ancient dialects only your soul understands if you are silent and still and present in that beautiful long breath of now 

Last years leaves blow in circles around my face

Dancing memories 

Or hallucination 

Of what is

I recalled Jack (or Ray) saying everything is alive and dead at once, existing together

Everything 

In a perfect circle

The oroboros is ever hungry

And so, I continued running that loud as sin backpack blower with a celebratory vigor singing out loud to myself knowing that this was the moment everything has led up to and flows from, for all eternity, and I am one with what I do and with the great hidden structure of life

And I was at peace