These days, sometimes "Good morning" means 2 o'clock in the afternoon breakfast. Staying awake til the wee hours, staying in bed late. I have this deep association of productivity as money-making which I'm still trying to break...I expend so much energy with or without pay. Paying attention to where the flow goes. Are these the pathways I choose for myself when I step back, perch high on a branch to gain perspective?
I've climbed trees as long as I can remember, scrambled up their branches, hugging trunks with my clinging limbs, them scratching me up and me not caring because this elevated view is worth it, is perfect. The trees are harder to find here, in this particular stretch of land I inhabit. More present are the screech of the Bart on its raised rails on one side and the lurching rumble of the railroad on the other. Human voices calling to each other or peels of laughter falling in through skylights and high windows.
Remembering the roots that spread beneath this concrete jungle.
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