April 19, 2010
Thinking is a lot like fishing. Sometimes I get a bite, pull up on the line and reel in a thought that I can identify. Some thoughts have purple scales. Other thoughts seem to disperse into a visible spectrum of light on scales made of tiny, wet prisms. I feel more comfortable when I am left to choose: Will I brood over the thought in some candlelit room later or will I relish in the slimy release...the gentle kerplunk as it hits the water? Lately I've been releasing more of the uglier fish, preferring my own hollow self-affirmations.