90 - Digging holes.
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You know what I dig? Holes. Holes in the ground,
that is. I dig digging them, and I do one or two a
week if I can.
Can't say why, exactly, and it's a pretty new
pass-time for me. I sure helped bury a few cars in
my short stint with the Holy Aquifers. Maybe
that's what turned me onto it. But even before
that, I think there's something of those mushrooms
still with me, somehow. Because now, being in the
earth still feels so... right.
I like the picking of a spot for a new hole,
usually somewhere up in the hillsides behind my
house where the soil is loose and easy. I like
those first few shovelfuls, when comes that "it'll
all be okay soon" feeling. But it's after a few
hours of work, when you're getting a ways deeper
into the cool earth and your muscles want a break,
that's the good stuff. And you crouch down on in
there, curl up in a ball, and you're centered.
You're connected, you're part of something, the
consumer and the consumed, the spoke and hub.
You're back on the land, you're back IN the land.
You're home. Hard to describe it.
And sure, it's good exercise and all that, and
you'll find all kinds of weird trinkets as you
dig, at least around these parts. But all that's
beside the point.
