Thoughts and experiences.
 Time, feeling with the deeper belly (not sexual area, but near by), seems to me like more belly-like thinking. The quality of thinking changes.
Last week I looked more careful than usual on and in time.
A morning, a blue sky, no appointments.
I enter a house of a artist with large windows and several of his work.
In the night, clinking of bells in the wind.
Hearing the difference between a clock-bell and the sound of a little zymbel.
Thinking about the Zen-saying: (more or less) When I’m sitting quietly, nothing doing, the spring comes and the grass is growing.
Working on a lathe (a turning tool) to build a holly symbol and seeing, how it comes out a piece of wood, how it comes to life, how it comes to birth.
And then: I write a post futile – and I am frustrated: the space of time vanishes. Frustration: all around me freezes up.
When time seems to expand a little bit, she (time in this sense seems to be more female) appears to me more like air, a little mooving air, wind or storm. And my ‘I’ seems to make a little snap. Time (for me) has the tast of birth, creativity..
Peter (Ludwig)
