Migration

The sun is out, the temperature is up, and the birds are going mad. They've come here for the winter, and now they're happy. Robins dominate the landscape today eating berries and bugs by the thousands. I went mad, too, trying to find a photo for today that was light enough for the moment. I had to make this one up just now, the light falling through the shutters onto the wall and pewter vase. So this has taken far too long. I have risen late, beat down by the stress of this incredibly onerous work week. And that is all there has been. It is not a good way to live. It is not even a good way to die.

I am going to India in a few months and must prepare for that. Visa, shots. Last night I watched two parts of the PBS series on India that won so many awards. The second part is about India in the 5th century B.C.E. Buddha. He begins as a prince, of course, then moves through the religious practices. And when he has finally eaten so little that his bones protrude and his buttocks hang limply, he comes to the conclusion that it has done him little good. Or so says the narrator of the documentary.

The best part of the story for me is that this man who had been a prince in the most princely fashion eschewed the palace to walk the country in search of something. And there it is. The Journey. The tyranny of most of what we do today is that it keeps us from journeying. I want to journey.

That is all I have today. It is very lame. But I am scared and desperate. This is the casting about of a desperate man.

Maybe I shouldn't listen so closely to those robins outside.