Today I saw Carl Sandberg's home at Flat Rock. When I saw the first information sign at the lake, I cried. Didn't tour the house today--will save that for later. Today it was a walking, lying on a flat rock meditating, writing poetry, photographing some flowers that start as stars and end as bells, sort of day. There's a wonderful green lattice octagon gazebo that is just the most fabulous place to meditate.
While walking down the path, I saw the little "rain speed bumps" (my dad who built mountain roads would call them kelly humps--don't know if you use the same terminology for paths) with little channels going off to the side to divert the accumulated water so it would not erode the path. It occurred to me that this is a valuable analogy: you can block things off, but if you don't provide means to get rid of the water/stress/whatever, eventually your little (or big) dam will bust.
And then it occurred to me
(drum roll for philosophy of the day)
that
exactly where you are,
using the metaphors and analogies of the moment
(everything I know I learned in kindergarten, from cats, walking paths, etcetera)
you can learn everything.
Or nothing.
Blog alternative:
47. Sketch out the floor plan for your dream house. (Doesn't have to be a mansion in the expansive sense of the word. I'm guessing my dream house is around a thousand square feet.)
