Monday, January 27, 2003

I ran errands after yoga this morning, still wearing my white gi bottoms. I wanted to explain that I wasn't wearing pajamas. But it would have underscored the point that it looked as if I was. At least I wasn't carrying around bags AND talking to myself. Just talking to myself. About how I wasn't wearing pajamas.  But not out loud. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep, I had a revelation about how blogging could transform the world. But I can't remember it. There is also a story, lodged in my brain. About a river spirit, Abhainn-domhain, who ventures out from his deep and wide river, exploring the heather covered mountains, across the valleys he runs through. He finds, one day, a rushing stream, full of noise and speed, coming down out of one of the tallest mountains he's ever seen. His curiousity is roused, but he knows there streams rush in season, and soon dissipate, swallowed into cracks in the landscape, some rolling into the fields below. But into the winter, he sees this same stream, rushing, noisy, making its own channels into the valleys below, finding its way around the holes in the earth. And one day, as he is retiring into his own waters, the stream comes right into his own valley, not paying tribute, not slowing down, but leaping and rushing right alongside his own swiftly moving waters. And she calls out to him. "See how I run, Riverdeep, swift and clear, over hills and valleys, far and near." "But who are you, to speak to me this way, you, who yet run beside me, where my waters still hold sway?," he replies. "I am 'Oban-cliste, and I have seen you at my source. I've followed you for many moons, and now I know your course."   11:00:26 AM