Snow the texture of confectioner’s sugar.
Where is she? Connecting the dots. The dots are indicative of magical consciousness, one-dimensional (Gebser). The world, everything that is, can be connected by a line between two points. All is interconnected within the mode of this consciousness which is always already present in us. Synchronicity is this phenomenon rising to the surface – it is the magical come corporeal. These dreams of snakes writhing on and in the ground this past year prefigure my stumbling upon this bird – the bird, the chasing after the bird becoming by map of the world falling apart. The points are connected by the caduceus of my own individuation. I do follow her in the glowering winter mornings to find my dormant spirit. I dream of snakes at night. In the day I follow her upward to the heights. Years ago, I repeat myself, watching the massive golden eagle arcing on an invisible slinky skyward. I recognized the form of my Self even then but did not know it. Point to point. This goes further. This goes further. This goes to the yurt and to the golden eagle we saw there in the flowering of our relationship, to the wedding day when we saw golden eagle careening down from the highlands without twitching a muscle, and now to Columbus preserve where we see two daily who have taken up residence at the far end of the trail. Having not seen the kestrel in a few days it is possible one of the eagles has killed it. This goes further. Where I write these words, in the blink of an eye, geologically speaking, roughly 500 generations ago I was under 100 meters of water. Point to point. I am still under that water. It has not gone anywhere. The kestrel she sleeps up there hidden from the great horned owl in a Scotch broom or Gambel's oak. Perhaps she sleeps above the old waterline. I think she does.