“And after a while we found ourselves on the racked and dusty, beat-up logging track, crested a hill and dropped our packs above to a briar-choked creek bed. We repacked, ate some food, and wondered how many twists, turns, hills, buttresses, oxbows, waterfalls, deadfalls, cold fords, meters of shingle creek beds, tangles of alder brush, thorn patches, and Devil’s Club lay between us and the open alpine meadows, somewhere high above the tree line…”

“Get above your fishbowl and look around. You can do that now. There is so much air and light, every lungful of this hologram is an ocean you’ve never explored if you can only sense its presence. As you can only do by relaxing to receive what you have nowhere to put, and you can’t stay there for long because fish breath water, and you must have your air, and air will take you back down into the forest…”

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