The touch

There was a big arrowhead of rock, which was split off from the mother rock by the most recent surge tide and it pierced the air with a new shape.

Today I see that this arrowhead, its granite neck and abdomen, have been pushed away from the rock family, further up the beach. It reclines now, offering the kind of couch I'd love to have in my (sadly couchless) lounge. But this is nature's gift, which I accept in joy and wonder, and I settle in, protecting my butt from the rock's cold surface with a folded cloth.

And that's when I see the breaching whale, his fluke cartwheeling over the deeps. And a huge container vessel too, ploughing forward, east to west. The sun's on my left shoulder. Both vessel and whale are heading to where the sun will set later, to my right. 

Whale, you library of blood and flesh, intelligence and blubber, the engine's drone hurts, I know. Above the water, too, many humans don't have the marrow in their bones to feel the sounds, which they create in ignorance of the responsibilities of power. 

Parnassian philosophising! The whale's dived down, out of sight, as I've droned on.

Alright. I'll follow you down where you may be. No longer is it necessary for me to explain or to prove anything. The material I create is its own justification. Neither fans nor critics, nor those who will never read a word of what I write, can match what I do, the vast majority want answers. That is one thing I do not provide, cannot give - because that's not a need. Whoever heard of a mouse or an eagle wanting answers? Riding the wind is enough, hiding in a hole is enough, nibbling grass seeds, tearing apart a dassie, breaking dead wood, caressing a human cheek - all that is enough.

Touch is enough. As I touch all I write about, and all I write about touches me.

At this precise moment, I lock gazes with a dog, about fifty metres off, who sits down at my return look. Dog and I mirror each other - straight-backed, cautious, alert, self-controlled. Measuring one another up.

But now it starts barking - is the owner close? The dog is gradually, somewhat nervously advancing towards me. A pair of geese swoop overhead, a private plane buzzes by. The dog disappears as the geese and the plane divert my attention - no, he has run past behind me, surreptitiously, on to the other side of me, my left side, towards the sunrise. When I bent down to the page, he seized the opportunity, plucked up the courage to pass by behind my back. Funny thing! So proud of himself now, dancing lightly off upon his doggy toes. Uncommanded, dignified, opportunistic, self-preserving, forward-moving. Blessèd instincts, precious, self-motivated creature!