The only sun is coming from inside. This Chicago spring is dark, cloudy, gloomy. Oh, it seems to be a comment on world events. The media snapshot, a limited view, is nothing but a litany of broken dreams, broken bodies.

Must not turn away, must take it all in, must see, without letting events diminish the light. There is a war of light and shadow. Convinced that the 'truth' is a dance between the two and that the truth will set us free.

I am swimming against the stream. Like a big, goofy, salmon, trying to get to the sacred place: to spawn. Once I get there, I can let go, or no, maybe I should let go now, see where the stream takes me, trust the moment, surrender to the now. What's on the other side? Could it be....China?