JUMPING from HER WATER

In the Boyscouts in Wander Woods was a just found new opening to another branch of Mammoth Cave. We pried the door free & went in--I think this is where the impression was born of falling, spinning out of control like a cycle where all things relevant pass the cntr. equally. I am compulsed to find my cntr., here realizing the French word Rousseau uses, tourbillion. Thinking things in a patent way as a situation demands is a cycle, which without, you are doomed to search for cntrs. from outside of you, of not your own making & the losing end means your forbidden path. I once worked for a lawncare co. & the outrageously blowing wind animated an experience of chimerical quality, of little whirlwinds blowing forth around me until I was enveloped in one. I thought I was at the cntr. of a top, & as it landed the world around me would have me suddenly in an entirely different corridor of, well, where I occupied space--this is me being precluded from minding the here & now--there are a lot of things that stop us from seeing the moment fully divulged. I honestly thought being in a soul was at once within the forces of ever broadening whirling tourbillions, & this was to take me to somewhere giving me the chance to gather myself, but again changing the path I was on for so long, in a very drastic way.