Death And Springtime

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Putting Mingo to sleep when he got sick was not a hard choice to make.  It is hard living with that choice.  I loved him very much and I will always miss him, as I miss all my loved ones.
It is lovely outside, I am facing Little Bay as I write, and it is all over sailboats and watercraft.  
The seasons used to last forever.  All possibilities were endless.  The day would last, well, all day.  But I was never happy.  I take refuge in my drawings of talking animals, and even I realize that I am not up to the mark.
I read a lot but nothing like I used to.  Adventure is no fun if you are aware that you could never join in on it.  Without dreams life is dull and arid.
Yet I walk outside and it is so nice to have such weather.  
I think often of the koan of the man hanging from a cliff with a tiger on the ground above him.  He is beginning to fall when he sees a strawberry in front of him.  He eats it.




Tiger.




Cliff.




Strawberry.

Life is to be enjoyed.

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