Rabbit Trails and Spiderwebs

Dunes The sand was between my toes.   I had stumbled and slid down the dune, and now as I climbed back to the ridge my toes dug in for traction.   A few moments to reflect as I climbed allowed me to consider again the folly of this journey.   With a more lucid and clearer mind I would lapse into ironic laughter at the proposition, but that was yet to come.   Right now, I climbed.   Thirst was a given.   Blowing sand from the mild breeze slithered over the dune, mocking my slow ascent.   How had I come to this place?   Why this journey? The fallen will know.   The wounded will understand.   The safe will have no idea but will have opinions.   I know that because I am that.   Safe with opinions…. It has become clear that my opinions were simply the musings of the ill-informed.   Word salads, with witty quips as the crunchy croutons and the dressing on the side.   You know this.   You have listened with bemusement as I prattle on with no substance.   Word salad.

A story is a curious thing.   In the language of authors, it is said to have an arc.   Always good with a double entendre’ if you say the word ark it sounds the same as arc, but means something completely different, and yet perhaps ends up the same.   The arc of a story carries you from the beginning to the end on a ride that has many turns and trials.   But then too, an ark will carry you to a destination on a journey of many turns and trials… so perhaps, they are more alike than at first thought. I was following this arc of the narrative flowing through my head one day and was surprised at the scenery of the tale.   While the lines of the tale were meandering through my mind in colors, and the noise of the scene played in the background, I was attentive to the notion that it was simply a tale.   Nothing more than a string of ideas and my imagination that made it flow smoothly into the next place of adventure or ease.   As the story goes… so too, my additions.

The landings Standing at the Lincoln Memorial it was a little daunting to look at all of the steps that lead to the top, or down from the to sidewalk.   Built into the elevation is the occasional plateau or landing.   It works with the symmetry and the effect is nice.   The view of the reflecting pool is awe inspiring and fills your mind with the history of the place and all that has been a part of the site. While pondering this I did a little reflecting on my own, and here is an item for consideration.   Entropy is what makes our muscles sag and our cars rust.   It is what makes mountains into plains and planes into scrap.   Entropy is what keeps friendships difficult, because you cannot ignore them, or they deteriorate into rubbish.   Like a set of stairs, the friendship can seem a little daunting at times and it is so much easier to keep going to the next step down.   Like the Lincoln stairs, you can even stay on one step and walk along the breadth and not