The school-day went by as usual.
In her English class her mind drifted as the teacher told them about irregular verbs, and at one point she opened Filligreen's book (from now on she vowed to carry it everywhere with her), read a paragraph, and then closed the book, leaving it on her lap, thinking about the single sentence that she had read:
Being superstitious can simply be another way of being attentive to the World that surrounds us. That Giant, Never-ending World, Infinite in all its ramifications and components, both big and small.
She thought about it. She remembered this morning, when she had opened the cupboard to take a spoon. She had one in her hand, but another had fallen on the counter. So she had put away the one which she had taken first, and used the fallen one instead.
In a sense, that's just my way of acknowledging all those things that are random. A way to commune with Randomness: the World. Or maybe it isn't randomness at all, and so it becomes a superstition or, in some cases, a religion. By using the spoon that the cupboard gave me, I play a little game. The cupboard becomes a playful spirit to me, and I smile.
Her teacher went by her desk, glanced at her book.
"A dreadful book for one so delightful," he joked. She looked at him as if she had been slapped, put the book back in her bag, and then went on with her schoolwork.
In her English class her mind drifted as the teacher told them about irregular verbs, and at one point she opened Filligreen's book (from now on she vowed to carry it everywhere with her), read a paragraph, and then closed the book, leaving it on her lap, thinking about the single sentence that she had read:
Being superstitious can simply be another way of being attentive to the World that surrounds us. That Giant, Never-ending World, Infinite in all its ramifications and components, both big and small.
She thought about it. She remembered this morning, when she had opened the cupboard to take a spoon. She had one in her hand, but another had fallen on the counter. So she had put away the one which she had taken first, and used the fallen one instead.
In a sense, that's just my way of acknowledging all those things that are random. A way to commune with Randomness: the World. Or maybe it isn't randomness at all, and so it becomes a superstition or, in some cases, a religion. By using the spoon that the cupboard gave me, I play a little game. The cupboard becomes a playful spirit to me, and I smile.
Her teacher went by her desk, glanced at her book.
"A dreadful book for one so delightful," he joked. She looked at him as if she had been slapped, put the book back in her bag, and then went on with her schoolwork.
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