My little frog pond is small. I suppose I like it like that. I prefer to stay at home and shut my doors. Feelings come to visit. Like in Rumi’s Guest House poem. Perhaps I am some sort of mentor in the little pond. But the world is big and in the perception of that world my little pond hardly exists. Its only by writing these nonsenses that other frogs in other ponds even know I am here. Croak, croak. All I have is my writing, the infinite presence, and my wife. I suppose I am blessed. For sure I am. But right now, 6am, I crawl out of bed and feel and think, this could have been so different if every little frog pond knew what was happening in the others. I learned we are each independent and responsible for our own situation. And we have to eat our cake. The world does not work in that way of seeing things. It really has no future like that. We need to make the Planet Great Again. Connect. Connect. Connect.
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