.jpg)
Perfection
is the goal; balance is the key. Everything seeks balance: the moon and stars,
opposing magnetic poles, heat sufficient to melt mountains squaring off with a
deadly frigidity of space, the salinity of our oceans and our cells, a swirling
interplay among all ingredients of our lives stirred up in a bowl.
Our physical
and psychological well-being teetering on a balance beam.
Perfect
moments can reveal themselves in the unfolding dawn of a new Spring Day…as the
retreating chill of night cooled breezes are banished by sunbeams that stab
eyes and recharge exposed skin.
I look for
balance, perfection, somewhere in every moment I’m given, if for no other
reason than the reassurance that it’s out there.
Then along
comes Billy the Fisherman with his generous gift, a container of his
much-acclaimed fish chowder.
An all too
rare example of perfect gastronomic balance.
Much more
than just a bowl of warm soup. The pyromaniac sun rising in the East lights
scarlet fires in the hair of a distant tree line as I break my fast among the
gods of balance… with perfection itself steaming promise up to me from an
oversized ceramic mug.
Many thanks
to Billy the Fisherman for reminding me once again, that perfection wears many
faces, all most welcome.
No comments:
Post a Comment