All that happens to us,
including our humiliations,
our misfortunes, our embarrassments,
all is given to us as raw material, as clay,
so that we may shape our art.
When I fly in my dreams,
I don't struggle or flap
my arms. I soar, high above
the clouds, like an eagle.
I must remember
to live in the same way.
Soaring requires rest.
My kind of rest involves napping
in the sun and this remarkable fire pit.
I must acquire one just like it.