As I type, the empty cup stares at me. I'm thirsty. I am sure this is a metaphor for something, and then again, maybe as arbitrary and capricious as the moment I decided to stay up another minute. I only plan to type for the next two, however, and allow this to be what might be a decidedly unfinished, rambling post about how I wanted another cup of tea, and yet did not oblige.
The fun thing about a blog, is that the typed word does not necessarily need to make sense, although it might help viewers venture back...a bit...or forward...a bit more...I'm still thirsty. Shall I have more tea, or a nap and meditation at this point?
There is one thing I know for sure. Although our minds and hearts read, study and tend to ramble, though there may be something meaningful to this, nothing seems to run so deeply as the mindless, soundless, breathless, detached, and yet fully alive, cup of tea. Cheers to the empty glass.
It's two minutes past my naptime. I may find my tea there.
