I like bamboo as the symbolSome think it's the times. That it's time. For something big. Involving consciousness. Or the disaster before a shift.
of constancy and simplicity.
I built my house deep within a grove.
Strike the bamboo
with a piece of brick.
Perhaps the sound could
awaken a passing Zen monk.
I, for my part, feel it's January during a financial crisis, a cold night, a new administration following a criminal administration, and the collapse of false optimism lipsticked with bravado, bank accounts filled with deception.
I'm not sure consciousness is changing. I've a head cold. Everything is a twist top and chewable or fits into a teaspoon or is taken 4 times a day.
And, we're one day closer to closing these doors. With itchy eyes.