Tuesday, December 24, 2024

In the woodlot

 It’s hard to say why I love working in the woodlot, but there’s this:

A rowdy goose came over low. It was not a flight of geese, just one goose. He was fast and loud. 

The goose went by, and I went back to work. It’s not even a feeling with me. I heard him and didn’t feel connected to the world — I was connected. I don’t recall a sense of a separate me enjoying (having a feeling of enjoyment) at the sound of a goose. There was just the goose.

No comments:

Post a Comment

What comes in with immigrants

 If you can name the first person on the faculty of Columbia who was raised Jewish, you can name the first faculty member who was a Catholic...