Juggling a few beads at once

Last night, walking the dogs in a brisk desert wind, old feelings arose from a morning in Canada, standing at the edge of  a field, snow melting, and the pine boughs singing in a springtime breeze.  Then this morning, I looked out the large windows of our sun-room and saw the branches of  trees tossing in the gale.  I had just looked up from this week’s reading in DTS and thought “I shouldn’t let myself exchange this living appreciation of the wind blowing through the world for some old memory”.  That would be one bead following another where the string is an association that replaces something fresh with something old.  Then I had another thought: These three beads (walking with the dogs last night, feeling the stirring of the trees outside right now, and the tugging of an old memory in Montreal when the breeze blowing across a field of snow made me feel more alive) can all be present, like the violins and the horns preparing for the entry of the piano solo any moment now.  Michael