fact and fantasy

A restless night, insomnia returning with the approaching spring, broken sleep and weariness cloaking the stumble towards the sacred bean. Standing by the window, inhaling the scent of sentience, shapes begin to separate themselves from the blur, the outside world is grey, heavy clouds upon summits meeting with the mists rising from the river valley below, but it's dry. Back to the mountain, the paths a little busier today; climbing, a gust of wind shakes the branches above me, dislodging a shower of small green seeds into the air, gathering upon the path; seasons change, spring upon the way. It's a moment to pause, recognition that in the tsunami of the virus the world goes on, that our species is just one of many, despite our best attempts to change the ratio...


At some point along my way I notice a figure descending from a route that involves a head for heights, which I lack most of the time, and then he disappears. There's another small path which I've never noticed and, as I have no route set in my head, I follow him, find myself in a temple I've never seen, a beautiful statue of the goddess of mercy reflecting in a pool of unquiet waters, wavering upon the surface as if a ghost. It's lined with Buddha images but not the usual ones, these look as if they were designed by the Wee Free's on a grumpy day, quite intimidating I'd suppose, certainly amusing. It's empty, a good place to just find a seat and let the time pass. Then onwards, vaguely knowing where I'm not heading, the road leading where it will. Another temple, something familiar about this one, an image of Buddha which makes me think of Kali, I know that I've been here before but that doesn't mean I know where either it or I are...