Rippling Thoughts

Life is the uncountable billions of ripples of All playing off each other: the endless cause and effect of One.

I take a slug of wadka and chase it back with a sip of Becks. My eyes can’t take the reading anymore, so I have turned to the journal.
Birds chirp in some inane and archaic tongue, some wave-frequency my antennae can pick up but not decipher.
I feel Here, in the moment.
A family of ducks swims by; stupid ducks just swimming on autopilot, but is perfect autopilot that has allowed them Survival. And they make ripples in the water.
And I notice the whole pond ripples. And it has always rippled. From here and gone paddleboats, from a twig dropped from an overhanging willow, a landing bird, or a leaping fish. Perpetual ripples.
And it all makes sense, the timeline; the life timeline is all ripples - from Dawn to Now. Events, actions, creations, evolutions, thoughts.

Never isolated, but at once summation and expression of future summations, in the endless Circle.

I feel like throwing my old shoe, which sits beside my crossed legs and sock-clad feet, into the pond to make my own ripples; to make my own piece of Life Art to ‘effectively cause’ a bird to flap. And to cause the rower of the boat to turn his head toward the movement only to have his gaze snagged by the young family picnicking by the water’s edge, wherein his mind shifts to his own woman back home, his woman with whom he fought last night, indeed the reason for his excursion to ‘get away from it all at the park today’. And he will go home now, and with his look and his everything embrace he will apologize for his harsh words of yesterday. And they will go upstairs and make love, conceive their child, make a big make ripple…

(Alas, I did not throw my shoe, or incite any conception that I know of. But I really enjoyed my thoughtful moments on ripples.
About fifteen minutes after this journal entry I was beckoned by the rippling sounds of a large crowd gathering nearby, and I joined a significant German student protest of some sort. There were signs and backtalk to polizei, and then a big march through a major Strasse. I did not know the exact plight of the students, but I liked their ripples, so I decided to add my own.)