Besides good exercise and practice of discipline, blogging is really a way to get writer's cobwebs out. I've got tons of writing to do but since the moon is full, my juices seem to tumble and turn like the tides magnetized by the sun.
Of course, all things pass and this moonlit night will soon be washed away by the surf on every conceivable beach. I shall soon finish Dalai Lama's awesome book and move on to well, maybe Gandhi. But there's something about moonlit nights and days that makes one lowly level lifeform such as I, go by the moments in lethargic fashion.
Once a month on the Chinese calendar, nothing and no one makes sense. If I may say, the Matrix decloaks itself and nothingness looks you in the eye. It will pass. It will pass. Hope comes to us each sunrise anyway, anyhow.
I guess I just have to hang on, like others.
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