This morning, on my way to contemplation rock up there in the Kilpatrick Hills, I say without thinking another phrase that spontaenously erupts whenever I'm at one with the earth: What a day, man! And then I realize as it sounds itself through this high altitude air, that what I am actually saying is, 'What a daemon!' the daemon being that inner oracle, that fully conscious subconscious, that cosmic being, that knows everything and nothing.
'What a daemon!' as in 'my oracle is some entity', for it has guided me up here into the rarefied airs, away from the noise and into silence, where I might contemplate existence in its everythingness and nothingness.
What a day, man, indeed!
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