WE PROCEED

 A friend writes me - we’ll get thru this. 

It reverberates and makes me think about things in a more sunny than cloudy way. 

Kids at the hippie school still race round and play in the street as if their short lives depend on it. 

People still marry. A bride and groom pose for  joyful photos on a West Village corner. 

Leaves still change color and fall. 

I run by the river and the water still gleams silver and makes me think of Jessie as usual. 

A shower still feels great.

I begin to reread Pema Chodrons book When Things Fall Apart. The first sentence reads - 

Embarking on the spiritual journey is like getting into a very small boat and setting out on the ocean to search for unknown lands.