The Window and the Arcane 0
The window I spent days on end staring through... Oh, it may not seem like it has such a great view — and sometimes it really doesn’t — but most of the time, yes, most of the time, it was one of the best views for me. The tree I watched from afar became a teacher. I observed it during stormy days, often thinking it wouldn’t make it through, but by the second sunny day, there it was again — beautiful and strong, its branches swaying in a sublime rhythm, almost like they were dancing a waltz. There were days when I saw it still, as if truly going through a tamasic phase. Some days, radiant; others, introspective — but always, alive. From this window, I watched the dark Irish sky, with its pinkish or grey clouds, and the clouds spoke to me through their shapes, through their weeping rain, and through their passage of time. Has anyone ever noticed that in the dark sky, there are white birds flying high? Or when black birds fly amidst the gray skies? There were also days when I saw th...
