This journey begins at the source, before time. Before memory. In the mist of childhood myth, the legendary beginning. Origins have crystalized, like water seeping through miles of sandstone; down, backwards through layers of time, pulled by the gravitational force of All That Is.
Too faint to be seen, a secret domain lies deep within, in the molecular spaces between hard, brittle tangible structure. Perhaps also too subtle to express in obvious ways, nevertheless it is ubiquitous, elemental, all authentic, all genuine, true thought. Sweetness surprises by bubbling up into word and deed, given optimal health. The sediment contains a mix of layers, some soft and porous, some hard, dense and imposing. Fossils of ancient entities lie unseen and waiting to be excavated, or remain hidden, deep within. These too are touched by the sweetness, which turns organic matter into silicate and stone, slowly, relentlessly, and permanently. These fossils dot the landscape of my buttes and bedrock, and occasionally reveal themselves as the elements of life’s storms and droughts, wind and weather, wear me away, these fossils, these layers, both soft and hard, purify and filter out the anger, animosity, frustration, pain, sorrow, and sadness that come and go, like the sun and moon passing overhead.
There are pollutants in the air, wrought by the din of industry and apathy, and they can tarnish and blemish the sandstone, marring the face of my monument. But deep within, the sweet water still stays pure, filtered by gravity and form.
Just as time erodes the body, so too do experiences pile up like fresh sediment, building new layers on top, containing the particulate and pollutants as well as the natural material of each moment. My body is ever-changing. It’s possible, I think, that this metamorphosis can turn my sweet water foul, and so care is needed for the preservation of the purity of my body. I must be the steward of my own conservation, a warden of uncorrupted natural biosphere. But lucky for me, the bulk of my mountain, its roots, its birth, are pure and strong. I am this physical self. I am this monolith, and I drink deep from the fountain of sweet water.
I invite others to drink too, if they come to me unburdened by lie or façade, if they openly share of this generous, rich soil. For it is the combination of sweet water and rich earth that sprouts life, and the cycles of life and death that form layers of my bulk, eons in the making. Rich minerals are brought through me by sweetness, and impurities removed. There is no single center, just the sum of each element, and no end to the deepness, no end to the process, and no limit to the sweetness found inside.
This sweet water finds its way down and trickles out in hidden springs, remote and unseen by mere passers-by. But to those who develop intimacy, the fountain is never-ending supply of fresh, pure sweet nourishing water, more delicious for its journey, richer than anything manufactured by man. It is an ancient, unalterable sweetness, because it is of the earth, and without end.
Dew gathered at each passing gloaming or startling dawn starts its journey through my body. Just as the rich life-giving torrents of violent storm inject deluges of water, to begin its own journey through my molecular body. These events provide different volumes of raw experience, but the process is the same.
My sweetness longs to find a pathway out, into the open, where it can meet seed and sun, and become life in a new form. It longs to be cultivated, tended, to irrigate the harvest that is its destiny. This too is an unstoppable longing, and exists in the landscape of my body, not forced by will or synthetic fertilization. It longs for nature where it can become. Authentic, true, pure, and life-giving- like the trickle at the headwaters of a stream, running forever to the sea, my sweetness will find a way to join the ocean, the garden, the forest, and the wildflowers that color the highlands of my psyche with delight and wonder, always and already, before me and long after I erode into dust.