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January 1, 2006

The Tao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Tao.

I stand speechless at the rocks' edge. The sunset bleeds along the horizon and up into orange clouds hovering above the water. Here, one hundred feet above the shore, the waves battering the rocks below fill my head. The wind whistles past my ears. Gusts threaten to topple me back against the sand and scrub hiding in my shadow.

Tears blur my vision. Is it the wind in my eyes? The sun? The waves? Maybe it's my mind that clouds my vision. My heart knows, but cannot speak.