Knot sure

    That's what happens when you go outside. When you come back in, your heart is left behind. It's not an act of protest. It's just your heart is made under the sky, in the water and of the earth.

    Imagine we lived outside all the time. The earth might remember us like an old familiar face. Might draw us in. Like a picture it hadn't finished sketching.

    But it's not about finishing, it's about keeping going. Pause and rest when you need to - your body, on the far side of its orbit, will tell you when it's tired. Now keep going. Breathing is its own foot steps. Beating a path to your heart. And then away again.

    Have I ever told you to look at me when I'm talking? Don't worry about that. I've got another idea. How about you look at me with your mind's eye when I'm not there. A way of holding hands even when we walk on opposite sides of a tree.

    Imagine the tree swayed when we did that. My daughter said that trees make the wind. What else could we apply that logic to? Where effects become causes. Journeys become pauses. And so on.

    If the moisture evaporating from the clothes line made its own special coloured cloud, how would that be? When the tree swayed, the wind blew and the clothes cloud moved - would we miss it? Ah, there goes my cloud.

    Some parallel lines meet. When they're really lonely. Or feeling naughty. Making messy knots. Is that what we are? How are you, my friend? I'm parallel, thanks, and you? Hmm, knot sure.