Is there anything ruinous to this business by me taking my most melodic, odd, serious, mad thoughts and my beating heart, joy, love, fears, struggles and laying it all out on the digital table for you to poke, prod, and angularly examine with magnifying glass, eye glasses, or telescopic glass per your level-of-interest calibrated distance??
I walk to the well within, lower the bucket and salivatingly anticipate the contents. Sometimes the water is a putrid, poisonous amalgam of the shaping earthly experiences of materialism, lustful craving, despondence, and unease. At other retrieval trips, I pull up a bucket filled with the ambrosia of joy, detachment, release, unspoiled awareness, and love of all. It is never consistent, nor should it be because the convulsive throes brought on by consumption of the first trip’s poison activates the inner environment’s cyclical means of groundwater renewal, feeding the well for future possibilities of ambrosial retrievals.