This is really the last part, but if I don’t get it down first, I might not figure out how to get back here. That’s what happens to strings of thought. At least mine.

My buddy Kelly and I were coming down from the peak of Mt. Shirouma–when I remembered I’d promised to read him a couple of lines from the book I happened to have in my backpack. You know what I mean. The book I purposely put in my backpack hoping I could create an opportunity to create an inspiring moment. Anyway, about forty minutes below the peak, he reminded me of it. We stopped. Didn’t really matter that it wasn’t the peak. Didn’t really matter that we were on a hiking trip.

But it was a pretty place.

And this is what I read:

“Who sees the many and not the ONE, wanders on from death to death. Even by the mind this truth is to be learned; there are not many, but only ONE. Who sees variety and not the unity wanders on from death to death.”