On the road to Vermont

Heading towards Bolton Landing, New York.

Given that we can live only a small part of what there is in us — what happens with the rest?

~ Pascal Mercier, Night Trail to Lisbon

If we were having coffee: Abstractions and reflections

Circling the tree.

We’re only here for a short while. And I think it’s such a lucky accident, having been born, that we’re almost obliged to pay attention. In some ways, this is getting far afield. I mean, we are – as far as we know – the only part of the universe that’s self-conscious. We could even be the universe’s form of consciousness. We might have come along so that the universe could look at itself. I don’t know that, but we’re made of the same stuff that stars are made of, or that floats around in space. But we’re combined in such a way that we can describe what it’s like to be alive, to be witnesses. Most of our experience is that of being a witness. We see and hear and smell other things. I think being alive is responding.

~ Mark Strand

Traveling

The ferry to Smith Island.

Rejoice in everything, and go on in different pilgrimages knowing perfectly well that life is not going to end anywhere, the journey will continue, the caravan will continue.  There is no place where the road ends.

~ Osho, from Tarot in the Spirit of Zen

Road trip

Crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel on a rainy, windy, foggy late afternoon.

Bridges become frames for looking at the world around us.

~ Bruce Jackson