h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

2006.

The ocean told me this year would be less traumatic than last year, tiny, glistenig wavelets curling their way down the shoreline rather than last year's turbulence and chaos and squalls. Comfortable temperature with a fog lying off the horizon to the north.

My soul needed that reasurance as my next year shall be a'shakin' and a'groovin'.

My personal ground is prepared, my seeds are gathered and sown. Now time to nurture (consistently) and reap the harvest.

I've been lying fallow the last couple years, regaining my essence, practicing gently for the moment when my life, every moment, is what I am, now. The future--it's here. I'm ready and fearless, just in the mode to Do and to Be. And my world is encolored, and my universe is Color ensounded.

I'm not sure that's normal, furthermore, I don't care.

I'm in this weird mode where Mother of God is singing and strumming and humming the universe alive. It's awesome. Sparkly.

Life *will* move, that's what it does.


For now, I want to stay here, and I want here to be like a wavelet, curling a silverish swooshlet kissing the shore, moments of indescribably sweet and subtle Now, touched and gone and indelible.