Give Me Patience
This morning I awake with that all too familiar feeling I must become something more than I already am. What is this nonsense? Where did it come from? Why me and not the dog? He seems happy being a dog, letting me do his thinking for him. I want to blame Monday. But this goes much deeper, to a place where days are indistinct, to a dimension where everything is circular and far beyond easy comprehension. I’ve got one foot here with you. I like being here with you. But I’ve got another foot elsewhere, in a place I cannot see, and it’s also somewhere I’d really like to be. I haven’t lost the human desire to fortify my mortal being with great testimonies to my existence. Still I know it’s a waste of time. I’d be wise to ask the dogs, or better yet the trees and rocks, to teach me about patience. There’s something about patience which can hold anything, including my vain desires.
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