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Forest and Trees


Sometimes I dream about taking pictures of bark, up close. So close I can see every ridge, every sprig of moss.

I stare intently (as intently as one can in a dream) at this flickering image and then it is gone.  A bubble floats past and magnifies a emerald green fern, forcing me to scrutinise that for a while, until it dissipates.

Sometimes I am aware that actually I am in a forest.  Standing small among the crumbling trees and growing mushrooms, unsure of where I stand. What does this place consist of? What does it looks like? My vision can only see small cells of it at a time. I can't see all of it because I am absorbed by the speckled rocks around the base of one of its trees.

Yesterday, a friend helped me understand that.
She used different words, a different approach, a completely different analogy, but I got it.
Today is a easier than yesterday.


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