Had a fantastic walk in the grasslands today. Sun shining, 27 degrees, incredible warm wind from the southwest. The grass was dancing. Standing tall to feel the sun, bending and swaying with the wind. The hills were alive. It wasn’t hard to have loving kindness for myself on such a glorious day. I wanted to blow like the grass, fully here but bending to the force of the wind, then standing back up again. A sort of flow.
What is flow?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind