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QUINTESSENCE

Blue Glass

“Parampara….from generation to generation.”
- from the Sanskrit

The last heat of summer glances off the hard enamel sky, the grasses bleached white, the tender green leached by the sun. I walk the bluff, thinking about the human heart and our desire to protect it, keep its secrets, yet open and trust. Ah, we yearn to be in love - yet fight against the vulnerability of surrender like a drowning man in the surf. The heart seems to always be searching, turning each leaf, each stone. I used to think the search was instinctual, blind; now I suspect it is anything but. Someday we will recognize what our heart tells us it has found.

The heart takes the hand and leads the way when rightness is present. As the willow switch vibrates over the course of hidden water, the heart divines love. The brain, seeking reassuring equations, makes spreadsheets, cross-lists, endless rationales. Heart and mind so often at odds, we extricate ourselves from things our hearts never told us to get into, dive into things our hearts scream “No!” Where is the harmony of the self?

Under the soles of my shoes, red dirt rises in little dust devils that settle on the dry leaves of the trees. The mistakes of my heart are like the dust rising from my steps - both a mark of passage and the mark of time, footprints on the trail. What comes of our hunger for love is a matter of mystery and history - the place where our steps begin and end. And this I trust my heart to know.

The sky is the color of blue glass.
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