I sleep outside each night, listen to the owls, watch the moon and hear changes in the wind. Rain comes through. Birds awake me, and bees too, so industrious in their buzzing I have to put a pillow over my head. I live on the mountain, yet attempt in the day to connect to time in the consensual reality that dominates the larger, cultural world. Time is a man-created thing. I keep trying to catch up with the “real” world man created, yet the real world doesn’t involve time as we have conceived of it.

From my favorite poet Rainer Maria Rilke in Sonnets to Orpheus I, 22:

We set the pace.
But this press of time —
take it as the little thing
next to what endures.

All this hurrying
soon will be over.
Only when we tarry
do we touch the holy.

Young ones, don’t waste your courage
racing so fast,
flying so high.

See how all things are at rest —
darkness and morning light,
blossom and book.