I’m setting the clocks back now and I”m wondering what I will do with the extra hour. I’ll drink another cup of coffee since by setting the clock back I just erased the one I drank. In fact, I don’t even remember drinking it. I’m writing this down as a record, for when I set the clock back I won’t remember writing this.
There should be Daylight Saving Year, so you could set the year back and start over. Oh, wait, they did a movie about that: Ground Hog Day. Only it was a day that was set back. How about Daylight Saving Life. Would I want to set my life back and start over? Would it be different? I suppose we would meet and feel Haven’t I met you before? But I did feel that way, kind of. If I were a clock, you wound me up. I seemed to Know you, or maybe it was myself I discovered. Is there not jus One Knowing that gets divided into two faces?
As you see, I writing in my free hour, a do-over, if you will. What set the clock back? Maybe it was the laughter in the jokes. Zen if Buddhism with Jokes. I meditate in the morning when it is dark and the sun rises in the East behind me, so when I opened my eyes my shadow was cast on the wall in front of me. I set my clock back to zero every morning when I meditate.
I feel I’m in a timeless space here at 606 South Main Street, of Peace House as I once named this great old mother of a house. Like the unicorn in the Garden I settle into its circular garden chained to the Tree of Life. I used to run like a dog against the chain until it snapped me back. But now I settle down on Zero and may no mind to the clock running out. That was a primary metaphor in our marriage, even naming our stained glass studio the Glass Unicorn. We, I don’t, make stained glass anymore, but the shop is still there and Tilly makes some gifts. But the house is window full of colored light that busts like a sun explosion when the morning sun hits it, giving a sacred feeling to the old House.
As my boundaries have shrunk like a retreating ripple on the pond, I kind of turn inside out, opening up more inside as I retreat from the outside. Little mundane happenings are great adventures, parables if you will, or the jewels in the Lotus, dewdrops that reveal the universal in the mundane. My life drips one insight after another, and as a submariner (this was a joke about a submarine bath) I catch the drop on the mouth of the faucet and wash my face.