In the last few months, I've been feeling like my life exists somewhere at a place in the middle of this poem. All of the stuff at the end seems too inconcievable for me to understand at the moment, but I can understand the line that reads "travelled too fast over false ground" and "open up, to all the small miracles..." When I slow down enough, I can see magic in the chaos. Ironically, meditation alone seems to be kicking up more dust that tends to stick in my eyes and cloud my clarity, while combining it with running (esp in the early a.m.) helps me slow down enough to dance through the dust storm. And I suppose running may be an apt analogy for wherever someone finds their life to be along the spectrum of this poem. The destination may not be clear, and the path hazy and narrow, but all we need to understand is the next step and muster the stamina to take it.
On Jul 23, 2011 rahul wrote :
In the last few months, I've been feeling like my life exists somewhere at a place in the middle of this poem. All of the stuff at the end seems too inconcievable for me to understand at the moment, but I can understand the line that reads "travelled too fast over false ground" and "open up, to all the small miracles..." When I slow down enough, I can see magic in the chaos. Ironically, meditation alone seems to be kicking up more dust that tends to stick in my eyes and cloud my clarity, while combining it with running (esp in the early a.m.) helps me slow down enough to dance through the dust storm. And I suppose running may be an apt analogy for wherever someone finds their life to be along the spectrum of this poem. The destination may not be clear, and the path hazy and narrow, but all we need to understand is the next step and muster the stamina to take it.