So we saunter toward the Holy Land, till one day the sun shall shine more brightly than ever he has done, shall perchance shine into our minds and hearts, and light up our whole lives with a great awakening light, as warm and serene and golden as on a bankside in autumn. – Henry David Thoreau, Walking

Being is becoming; existence is a journey.

We saunter futures that echo pasts as the present guides our feet. Calloused soles that soul onward, we toe-tap memory into magic, intention guiding attention, attention presencing the absent into meaning. I wander the many-worlds with you.

Serendipity. Epicurus: the Swerve. Atoms loose possibilia into modal cornucopia. To plan is to seek a future, to navigate time. This navigating is a navigating-with, with-the-world and with-another. We intend the time-to-come and in our present we journey the to-be. But this journeying is always a wandering, an improvisation. Being becomes through creativity, through a leap of faith into love, attending to the coming-dwelling. Hope is an artwork.

In plans we scribble the future. In seeking, we prophesy. I orient, I lean, I intend, I attend. I intend to attend to a future with you. I attend to unveil my intending, my attending-to-come. We lean, we orient. Towards one another, towards a future, a willing-of-time. I will, I will, I will. To will is to unfold a future; holding hands is loving-in-time. I journey to journey forever with you, sauntering the unknown. All I know is love.

Dreams dream, our imaginings layering on our skin, wrapping ourselves in the quilt of time. Please, plan. But please, wander. Creation is perichoretic kenosis, indwelling, self-giving love. Creating, begetting, and proceeding. Nature is a pilgrimage to a holy land that is already-here. Earth-souls plant memory in fertile soil to spring-forth the tree of life, Eden the un-naming of the forms, paradise a being-here. I am here, I am here, I am here. I am always here.

Uniquing is always a Uniquing-with. Uniques unique together, togethers togethering in the together of togethers. Holy earth journeys multiplicity, life echoing infinite Uniquing. Hold my hand and leap into the heart of the world. Journey with me the becoming.

Being is becoming; existence is a journey; to be is to love.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time. 
- T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding

Image: Evening Primroses in the Vase by Paul Gauguin (1885)