Pursuit is what feels so right it can’t be wrong. You know, in your dog brain.

Among the strangest of things to happen today in my world, besides a rare January rain, was a gathering of dozens of crows. It provoked pursuit of a thought:

Large gatherings of crows, those are called murders, you know, geek that you are.

We are birds of a feather, dear reader, were we crows why…
would we gather in the pine tree where the old crow I call my friend takes refuge from the noonday sun on cloudless days?

AAH HAAA, its his birthday!
Or something all the crows for some distance in several directions seem to have arranged
time wise.

How would we have known it was time to make ourselves known in the presence of the only old crow who has ever hung out near me for long enough to share memories of fires that nearly burned our homes?

I am tangled, part crow-viewed man, part man viewing crow, I know no reason for the gathering of happy crows, mayhaps or perhaps, as you please, there is secret meaning? Jung, ‘n’ Freud ‘n’em said haps apt to be significant, per se, may appear in crazy dreams.

We are not dreaming, are we dear reader? I thought not.

You know, from a pursuer’s perspective,  pursuit of prey that always gets away is not fair.

Say,
what if or
shall we pretend? Whose to let us? Boldly go into…

The Cloud of Unknowing, the fog in the unexplored, the do-no-more of the never-ending-stories, just past the murder’s celebratory reverie at revelation of some shining thing.

In the tree, was that a key in the old crow’s mouth, glistering in a single, cloud-piercing beam that caught my attention? I wonder if…

In  the realm of all playable games, all keys are clues be cause…

Why,
all locks have ways beyond ’em, in time.
Keys or fires or bugs, ‘n’ such.

“Time was made for man, not man for time”, that is a quote that I think is a fact. Keys open locks. Not all locks need opening. True, right.

Getting to the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth, that could take forever, to my way of thinking. But I swore I would.

A pursuit worthy of joyous Yah whose to whose ever idea this was.

This is a great forever, where haps may breed or bloom in flocks of pers and mays and none think murder more than flocking crows, Carlos Castenada’s Silver Birds, more than meet the eye, some times.

Once, upon a time, a mystic wrote that the form that formed the platonic atom was, in fact, the teensiest wee bit of time itself, the indivisible moment, that is. Id est i.e.

Time, mate, wake up.
There’s haps to chase, and all along the way,
pers and mays for the grasping, gently…

Mayhaps prefer soft touches and perhaps, a whispered word of wonder.

This is the right, you know. The right to pursue happiness. Naturally yours in your American nativity,  and you pledged allegiance to the flag, symbol of Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness as inalienable endowment rights common to all men who are created equal in value. The republic the flag symbolizes, how’ that come that is somethin’ a flag can be Symbolized by a flag. Ain’t that flag a battle flag, that symbolizes me being free from tyranny by my allegiance to the force that stands in eternal emnity to tyranny.

Ask Jordan Peterson to explain Tyranny. Map some meanings to some words that are old to you, words you may know from the first meanings you ever wrapped in them,
unwrap some old words, relative to you. Words you always used, like right.

Those words should be glossed, as they say these days, right on. If we define our terms, we may order chaos to flee. “Whatever”.

When mustered for acculturalization exercises during government mandated basic education, you pledged such allegiance. Didn’t you, know what you were doing?

This idea passes muster. Muster is the call to a state of readiness to answer any reasonable demand,
(command or demand, is that object or subject, thrown thing or target?).

Right here. The muster mark. Three quarks, please. Are you paying attention to some other idea?

You swore allegiance to the idea of your right to life and liberty and to pursue happiness. To the Spirit of America, the idea the flag symbolizes, you pledged allegiance to the idea, right?  Did you not?

Is a Right a Human Right? I would count myself happy to know that. Oh, wait, the declaration of independence is not the law of the land, it is the law of Nature’s God. So America began its emerging by declaring that All men, wombed and unwombed, dull and bright, strong and, weak, have the obligation to do the right things we have right usefulness in doing. Sermoactum, sotto voce, eh?

Shall we pursue it individuatedly, in a Jungian trance, waiting patiently alone for some super-natural emergence of “the right thing to do”? Or will we pursue that truth happily, together, like those crows, as those crows in my pine do, knowing there is a perfectly good reason for doing the right thing, that is no secret at all.