December 28, 2013

Tried the studio yesterday, but it was too cold to work.

W came to my house, and over the unwavering insistence of his three-year-old on being the center of attention, seemed to imply that the property is “perfect.” I showed him everything that I could think of that was wrong with it. Conscience clear there. One sees the channel down which the universe is pouring its energy, and one goes with it, even if it’s not what one had in mind. If it goes according to plan– W’s plan, apparently God’s plan-- it will save everyone a whole lot of bother. Not to be bothered any more than necessary is almost always my plan, too. Will is in the enviable position that whatever I make from 62 is gravy, and I’m not a greedy person anyway. They say that the way to make God laugh is to make plans; it seems that He is making these plans. I’m not laughing exactly, but I am managing a quizzical smile.