Regarding Desire

I feel like life is hitting me in the face and filling me up. I am not fed up. I am not hurt. There is no violence here. There is only knowledge that this is right and this is enough and this is beautiful. I am not satisfied, yet I am. What more could there really be? I am mixing wood glue and flour and water and making a box. I have just been shown a brand new chicken egg. The tops of the pine trees are wavering back and forth and to and fro in a magical and unminding way. Sure I could be a little warmer and this and that and many other things could be better in so many ways. But then couldn't they also be worse? Maybe actually things can only be as they are. I just heard a radio piece featuring a few different versions of Bach's Goldberg Variations. Earlier I heard a piece about something called the Gospel of Inclusion.

Why is it that sometimes everything just sort of strikes you with a sense of being here? Sometimes things just plain make sense, even with all the senselessness and inadequacy and further desire. Sometimes wanting and trying and pushing isn't so much because of lack but simply because of being. Right now..., well gee- just right now. Right now questions are more like facts.Right now longing is the same as having.

I don't know how to say this. I don't know what I feel. I am here and here is in me. I feel grateful. It sounds crazy but the trees are in me as are the chickens and stars and the moon. They are all in me. I have glue on my hands and the wood stove is warming the room.

Right now I have written a little bit. I will work more on my box and I will make some small push to better organise tools and clothes and art projects and gear and stuff. Maybe later I will even wash my hands.