Fox Island, revisited
I come to Fox Island to meditate, to reflect as I gaze across the water. The hypnotic sound and motion of sea and wind, crashing wave and crying gull become a lyric in the song of the universe.
The earthly presence of the granite beneath me, the salt air and the pungent odor of decaying sea-wrack give way to the ethereality of thought and I wander among the swirling conversation of fifty-thousand years of human consciousness.
Distant, the cool wind whispers for attention as it lifts goosebumps along my arms. One moment I remark the lobster boat chugging past and the next I have crossed the threshold of the subconscious that is called lost-in-thought by some, daydreaming by others, out-to-lunch by the unimaginative. I am free of gravity and my mind, loosed from its temporal bonds, weightless.
Unguided, the primal inhabitant of my intellect steps out and journeys through the…
View original post 204 more words