One can always ask, and the question remains. The point is not the answer, but what I can do better. Every life looks like your own when the bubble surrounds you, but if you're lucky it will explode. When that happens, the world is colder on both hands, but the way becomes more itself and less oneself. The garden path is an old analogy to the way of life, and not a bad one. Where we are upon it is less the point as to how the garden grows.
Last year I sat about the path and kept it clean, and that was fine. Now the time is right for digging in the dirt. Nobody needs to see but the bees, and they are not interested.
Improvisation is what is needed, because the learned way becomes the hard way. I know this, and perhaps nothing more. Tomorrow I'll have a chance of making up something new. Bless the next day!
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