from o ánthropos

The thing I love the most about my house is the balcony. I had it made off of my bedroom on the second floor.  From there, I could rise in the morning to watch black squirrels and passerine birds as they chase each other through the network of forest limbs behind my property.  I would sit upon that narrow promontory o ánthropos into the natural world, sipping from my coffee.  I would reset and connect.

It is like a human isthmus of my dream world into the real world available just outside my door. The real world, because it’s not contrived from human hands.  It’s not artificial, so to speak. I think of the word artifice; the use of guile to deceive others out of what is rightfully theirs.  Can it be said that anything artificial has pulled a fast one on Mother Nature? Maybe.  I’m just glad to be here.