Thursday, July 26, 2012

Kickshaw Teacher This and That

If you've ever had a genius as your teacher you realize that there is a point beyond which you begin forgetting yourself, your life, and what you had in mind.  You become what you really were meant to be all along because someone else notices some part of the universe that you concentrate on, admire, or remember.  When this happens laughing and crying are not enough.  Something must be made, fashioned.  Hopefully, it is not a weapon but, o.k., it could be a dream that is made real, material, and left for others to study.  Now, you have been lugged out of isolation for a bit, even if that's where you really dwell.  Your teacher points to the path.  Yes, it is lonely.  Lovely.  Your teacher will walk with you there for awhile.  You may be noticing nuts, berries, but there are other things too that your teacher points out like the present as well as the past that suddenly ran up ahead and beckons to be caught up with.  It calls on a telephone from Vancouver Island and has the patience of a silverback gorilla shopping for kickshaws in a crowded, dusty fair.

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