Wide open spaces and so many places to put my mind – with its restless thoughts like reckless dogs on leashes. A squirrel appears and they break away. I call for them, but they ignore me. So I shout. Others, those with obedient thoughts, stab me with angry eyes upon hearing my raised voice. Eventually, my thoughts return. I’m their master; they have no choice. Besides, no one else would have them. But now we’re back where we started – walking along a footpath ripe with distractions. A flash of silver from the wing of a bird flitting past. A yellow weed, disguised as a flower, unfurling toward the sun. A pretty girl dancing with a ribbon on a broken bow. I take a breath, lower my head and put one foot in front of the other. The pulling becomes yanking. I shout again. It’s worse today than normal.
Life is a meadow. It’s a miracle we get anywhere.