I had a one-sentence blog post1 in my head.
Something about a thing that was not everything, followed by a notion about what is everything.
(Even though that phrasing bothers me these days, because it might be confused with the socially popular, dramatic, vapid penchant to declare any and all things to be everything right now, e.g. “this avocado toast is everything” … pause … “this color of yellow is everything” … and so on.)
And then it was gone. The clarity of the moment.
While sitting on a boulder of granite above the Arkansas River, my eyes closed, my lungs breathing, that thought drifted down stream.
It was distracted and displaced by the calls of rafting guides to each’s crew, “One stroke forward,” passing left to right on the stream below me.
Stroke, more or less in unison. And on they went. Again leaving me to the silence, but for the riffles of the river below me, sounding into the breezes, and the distant roll of thunder.
I resumed, eyes closed, listening, breathing; thick, gray clouds coming and going, veiling and revealing the sun.
It wasn’t everything. But it was a nice, nice something.
1 I prefer to post here on my website, even such short and simple thoughts, in this digital terrain of Humanitou. It brings me joy of creativity and sharing in a way that placing myself into the social media landscape does not, cannot, will not.
So few people receive what I share in those foreign lands that are so corrupted by artificial algorithms that it makes little sense to place pieces of me there, when I can be all of me here. I can walk naked in my home and forego the rules of elsewhere.