'Whose woods these are...'

It hit me, light snowfall underfoot, white, wooded air. Each snowflake is unique. How? Each a collection of one-D strings, each vibrating at its own frequency, each string responding uniquely to the Sound (the Logos). Why can't we see them? They're just one dimensional. No width, no thickness. How long are they? God alone knows. Every possible, imaginable length and more? Consciousness ensouls all, down to each string, which wants to further creativity, because of the Sound. Consciousness is the only cause. Each string impelled to vibrate.

Each of us unique. How? Why? Same reason. Creatively forming the universal body of God, also responding to the Sound. We reach out, question, shout, where? To whom? Other atoms, strings within the body of God. One atom seeks another unique, specialized atom. Atom seeking atom. Nowhere to go because no Place, maybe even no Time. What's time but the co-ordination of attention? Not the ticking of a clock. Except that ticking be the unique expression of a collected consciousness of vibrating strings. As am I. As are you. Since consciousness is the only cause, wherefore snow? To remind the consciousness.

Phone, beeping, exploding with messages. Suddenly ringing. Her? I'd admired her profound talks but why call me? I listened humbly. Uncharacteristically. Small talk, then she, how would my life be different if I were in the training? Confused, I said that would make a great difference. She said, "Well, you are." And that was that.

I called my daughter. "Are you free?"