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Take your cup outdoors and study the snow-cloaked mountain. Steam from the coffee drifts up its face, vapor backlit by a crowning moon. To explore the hollows and knots of granite in the moraine, consider contemplation. Breathe. In. Out. Let your eyes simply follow the steam, independent of will. The feel of stone, hard mud, and forest duff– it will all come back to you. You’ll divine it with your feet. There was a time when you’d have scrambled, intent on subduing that sheerness. Be tranquil, so as to scale it again There’s no storm this time. Not the one you hid from once in that cave full of droppings– were they porcupine, bobcat, fisher? Odd glyphs in venerable dust. Don’t even attempt to read them this time. More important, you won’t know that squall in the soul as when you pondered your place in the world. Whatever that was, now is. You’ll have none of the heart-searing tempest of young love, and not its relentless pursuit. Love of all kinds has blessed you. Think of your dearest desires as surrendered, and thus fulfilled. To believe as much, abandon your lust for height-of-land. Keep breathing as long as you can. That’s challenge enough. You must climb to wherever it is you’re going as subtly as the steam that rose from the cup, which has cooled, and from which you now may safely sip.
Copyright 2021 Sydney Lea.