I'm wondering if it's enough to live by a great lake that I wouldn't swim in... or if one day soon I will live by the ocean. In the summer up north at a cottage, after a bout of swimming, I like to lay half in and half out of the water... my upper half, facing down, on a large smooth boulder lining the shore, my lower half bobbing in the lake. I can lay like this for hours, like a primal bit of sludge trying to decide whether to evolve or not.
A difficult choice for a Libra to make: Evolution apparently means growing two legs to carry you to work, and dextrous fingers to type... and before you know it, Ms Amoeba is working long days for the privilege of earning enough money to live so she can.... go on working.
On the other hand (a favourite Libra expression, not that I believe in these things, but - dagnabit - I sure do sound like a classic Libra most of the time)... on the other hand, not evolving means no Shakespeare sonnets, no spice trade, no - gulp - chocolate, no Guinness, no film industry, no literature... okay, okay, OKAY!!! I'll evolve! Chuh.
2 comments:
What's with all the evolution? Oh and you can't choose to evolve silly....:-)
Can I choose to regress then? I'd like that. I could stop working for a living and forage for nuts and fruit, and balsam trees to hug. (Hand stuck up in air) - Oh choose me! Please! Let me regress!!! Devolve! Whatever! Just get me the hell out!
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