This was the full moon last night through my window. It was a night I needed to be in the moment rather than writing in retrospect.
This moon is in the sign of Aquarius, May Ziadeh’s sun (Feb. 11 1886.) And I see today along with all these wonderful realizations of the earlier post that I’d apologized to Gibran yesterday for the height possible unkind joke, but in retrospect, my first (unnecessary) joke was accidentally left out of the apology.
Looking back, the night I brought the jasmine in, I heard soft footsteps, (I hadn’t gotten to tell of this mystical experience yet but here it is), look there, and see no one, slow circles around that table, pause, as if looking down at the flowers, —felt like May Ziadeh’s spirit (who’d written her book, Flowers of a Dream), and I fell asleep.
And it was a very vibrant day yesterday and a very sweet night; my heart is appreciative, even if I forgot to bring the jasmine in and the wind had blown the flowers off their stems and then they’d gone away.
At dawn, I opened my hands to release the windblown jasmine flowers and then came the morning breeze. This well-deserved justice came too as if, oh so you want to say what in his hand should be in my hand? The wind was puffing and you left the flowers out so now I’ll put your jasmine in my hand.
Earlier: Me, The Failed Scientist, Learning