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                                on walking through walls

                        expulsion of air starting with a ‘p …’
        … well, hold on a minute
this all sounds a bit grim
                        a bit Byronic-heroic

        and where there’s grim
        there’s usually gritted teeth
        (and pulled ligaments once you get older)
                trying to hold the balance

                        no fun
                        no beauty
                        just flexed jaw
        muscular and tight-lipped
                so enforced in its own sense of dharma-drama that it
                        loses the action
                        for the self that grims it
wandering about in the fog that obscures all direction
                        and perspective
                to balance

                all the while unaware
                                – inhalation with a wide ‘e …’ –
        of the sheer-joy-innocence
                        of the folds on the back
                        of the well-seated chair
        the silence of the swirls on the carpet
                        when last vacuumed
                                        oh yes
and the timelessness of the ticking second hand
        all of the silences
                        in rhythm





awareness wormhole: the art of sit and follow
balance wormhole: – sigh! –
being & letting go wormhole: for goodness’ sake
breath & breathing wormhole: is that so!
doing wormhole: truly invisible
life & time wormhole: 1971
pointlessness wormhole: my life / of others
walls wormhole: good session