As with every travel, I find there are gardens that -look- like gardens, and there are gardens that -are- gardens, no matter how they look on the surface.
Forty days of rain, forty years in the wilderness, forty days on the mountain; forty years old, forty sons, forty cubits, forty baths, forty days’ fast.
I watch the world’s movements. It turns with the same steady footstep as always, but the humans aboard become frightened, startle at shadows and . . . make decisions tainted by their imagined or promoted fears.
One reason we are leaning over an economic precipice, and our poor human non-heroic legislators are hog-tied and unable to affect change, is because We the People are arguably (and measurably) the most materialistic and consumptive culture the world has yet produced.
As I stood under the shower’s spray this evening, allowing the warm water to wash away the day’s dust and travel, I found that as the dirt left me, so did peace and security.
A system is only as strong as its weakest link; make a nuclear containment structure (theoretically?) plane-proof and bomb-proof, still the generator sits outside… powered by fission, not fusion, its “steady state” is detonation, not stasis.