a cactus once told me a tale (in very broken english of course)
about a man who had walked for one million miles
and could not find his home.
as he walked the surface of the world, he held a book just beyond his nose...
the bible... the prophet... siddhartha... the qur'an... tao te ching...the celestine prophecy... an autobiography of a yogi... the torah... the alchemist... thus spoke zarathustra
his appetite was insatiable and his stamina was incomparable.
but his hollow heart would forever thirst.
he chose to walk the path of an eternal student... but he couldn't see the reprocussions of this decision... he failed to ever realize that to choose this path meant that he would never stop walking. and thus he would never find home.
the cactus sat in my living room wearing a tophat and sandles, licking his spiny fingers as he spun this story for me over the course of an hour or two.
i sat in bewilderment... eyes wide, crouched in a ball on the futon in the corner... my knees tucked into my sweatshirt.. my arms wrapped around myself, holding tight as not to let go and fall deeper into this bizarre happening.... i sat in shock.
just as i do now... because this never happened - someone else is speaking through me... i dont know who or where or what or when -
maybe the man was the eternal student and somehow i am the eternal vessel...
or maybe i am the cactus.
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