to where nothing has a name

I went paddling today, and looked around at the familiar scenery. Each time something came into view, my mind presented me with a word. Driftwood; jellyfish; wave; seal; current; eagle; cat's paw, and so on. Then there was the bird I didn't know the name of, and I thought about all the words in my mind, and about the missing word. I liked the missing word best of all. Once again I remember...it's time to forget.

Even the loveliest of words can only dance around the truth of something; or at best, walk us to the door and let us go. The irony of me writing these very words does not escape me as I dance around the truth of even this moment. Here I am, trying to write about how I love it when the words fall away, and perception once again joins breathing as an unspoken act of nature.

I went paddling today, and it took me, like so many times before, to where nothing has a name.