Rilke said: "The only journey is the one within."
I sit with that, thinking about perception, and how we open and close like an anemone, responding to the tides.
I open Basho's Narrow Road to the Interior and consider these words, written by a man Basho met on his journey, a man who wrote haiku. When it was time to part, the man wrote,"I write on a fan, and tear it apart, lingering."
And I am with this line of Billy Collins from his poem "Paris". I start in the middle of the poem:
"what bridges I would lean on / to watch the broad river undulating / like a long-playing record under the needle of my eye".
I love that image but wonder what a young person would make of it. Do they know about records and placing the needle just right?