After defeating his rival with a wooden sword carved from an oar, Miyamoto Musashi, "was watching
a small cloud in the sky. As he did his soul returned to his body, and it became possible for him to
distinguish between the cloud and him self, between his body and the universe.”

Walking a mountain path this morning, looking down onto the valley's furrowed land, wiffs of salty air
awaken me to when a travel-worn Odysseus was told to carry an oar to where, "the oar would be
mistaken for a winnowing fan, used for separating grain from chaff."
If you meet an aged Aborigine
there, and ask him for directions, he will not point you toward home, but to the nearest myth.