“In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is magic in this moist world, in how the mind lets go, slips into sleepy water, circles and nuzzles the banks of palmetto and wild iris, how it seeps across dreams, smears them into the upright world, rots the wood of treasure chests, welcomes the body home.” WorldMindHomeDreamBodyWaterMeditationMagicIdentityLetting GoWoodsCirclesTreasureChestsSlipsOur ThoughtsGlimpseFleetingElusiveSleepySwampsIrisesTreasure Chests Book:Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs, and Human Imagination Source: Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs, and Human Imagination
“This is the pleasantest part of life. Oblivion throws her light coverlet over our infancy; and, soon after we are out of the cradle we forget how soundly we had been slumbering, and how delightful were our dreams. Toil and pleasure contend for us almost the instant we rise from it: and weariness follows whichever has carried us away. We stop awhile, look around us, wonder to find we have completed the circle of existence, fold our arms, and fall asleep again.” LooksDreamLightFallForgetPleasureExistenceWonderArmsCirclesInstantToilDelightfulOur DreamsOblivionFoldsCradleParts Of LifeInfancyWeariness Book:Pericles and Aspasia Source: Pericles and Aspasia