Last night a three-year-old, the son of the directors of the yoga studio I teach at, told me that he "wanted to kill me". Everyone else seemed shocked and "sssh",d him. I decided to engage him. "Was he aware that if he killed me, I would no longer come in to the desk to see him?" "YES" he replied with a huge smile! So be it.
I don't know why I'm sharing this. Just that all things somehow seem relevant to me at all moments, even if, seemingly they originate from a different sort of consciousness. I wonder sometimes if once we've committed something to a piece of paper it ceases to be true because it is no longer what IS. However still true. I am making no sense. My old scribblings, as my present scribblings, sometimes horrify me.