i had a heavy lidded jungian therapist who said palely,  you got a swamp, or you are a swamp, we're going to drain. i thought even at the time, wait, swamps are good, i like swamps. but i deferred to the idiot even though he was going to sleep on me and when i asked him to hypnotize me he said he didn't believe in hypnosis but did it anyway and i faked it and he was unimpressed. i didn't say then, george, let's just leave it alone, we can get to know the swamp can't we? do we have to drain it?

they keep trying to mow the marsh and succeed only in getting stuck and making muddy ruts. if they saw the golden marsh bear they would immediately understand and delight in the marsh.

a marsh is saturated with feeling. a marsh imbues me with a warm marsh feeling. 

i don't anymore think there's a reason for the way we are. it seems better not to assume reason. it's painful to find reasons for our degradations.

the catalpa loves us and wants us to look up, to lay beneath her and wonder, to enfold us in a canopy of her light.

yonder light

we were on the island eating berries and a girl came by smiling and i lit a smile or i was already smiling and saw from her and yet i was reluctant to appear to be following her path. she paused and seemed to be picking something too but when i reached that place i didn't find the thing and she didn't appear again.

yonder light.