drop of dew

There is at least one spot in every dream at which it is unplumbable — a navel, as it were, that is its point of contact with the unknown. —Sigmund Freud

In the mist of lavalands, the one spot becomes manifold.

Red arrow indicates glyph

An unplumbable dream of turtle; an unknown between the familiar and the haunting. Further, a metaphorical signal: Turtle Island.

Issa:

I know this world
is a drop of dew —
and still . . . still . . .

NOTES

— Sigmund Freud, in The Interpretation of Dreams (1899)

— Issa (1763-1828), Japanese poet and haiku master

— Photos: Uplands of basin and range country, June 2022. Above: Mist; Golden Eagle ledge-nest/nest-fall; Canyon wall, glyph, pool; Pronghorn tracks.

CODA

Re-turned last week from eastern Oregon, sagelands, lavalands, dustings and dreamings. Embracing Cascade oscillation: open country to thereabouts east; valley envelopment here out west.  

Not away long enough for Eugene not to seem normal. Then, reading the news, seems “fatigue" is the operative word of the month. Virus fatigue. Ukraine fatigue. Climate-heat fatigue. And the general malaise of politics what with inflationary-inflammatory. 

Yet, ever aspiration, sensing a mystery who provides all the possibilities of these experiences. We will never know how the galaxies wheel. We are fortunate in ways we do not understand for a brief cycle to participate in something grand.  That’s a guess….