Prologue with evening light filtered through a prism
Since I’ve moved I don’t take packages and have limited mail at my apartment. The reason is threefold:
– My mailbox is crap.
– I never know when I’ll be home to receive packages.
– I don’t trust anything left in the alley.
So whenever I go to my moms, there’s often some used cd, videogame or book waiting for me. Sunday was no exception, but I couldn’t recall anything I’d ordered directly from Amazon.
Opening it revealed a book, and I immediately knew who it was from. I sat there with my mom on the couch and gleaned through the chapters with titles like:
– Solitude is Luminous
– Death as the Root of Fear
– Autumn and the Inner Harvest
– The Mystery of Friendship
This is very much like any number of books that we had on the shelves growing up. Had my mom lived more toward a coast, she’d have likely been a hippy—the tree hugging kind, not the twirling around on acid kind.
All that Ram Dass, Ramtha and Shirley MacClaine seeps in as a child. If anything, just by reading the dust jackets and sorting through the basic themes.
The most heartening facet of all this, is the desire to learn and grow is a part of me. I’m reminded that I need not be stuck for too long.
I’m looking forward to this read. It came at a time when all the fiction and computer books I’m consuming isn’t enough.
*tips hat in a westerly direction*