If, what a little word, and yet it can say so much, for example this sandpit in the photo was bliss to these two children, lucky boy and girl, look there is even a wheelbarrow, the pure pleasure of sifting those fine grains of yellow grit, bliss in the security of the back yard behind all the closed doors of Burford High Street in the 1950’s. If we had been manifested in other skins, in another part of this planet, who knows what bubbles might have been blown. If for example I had started writing at an early age, I mean expressively, then my shadows may have dissapated at an earlier age, if my awareness had been fully functional, I guess. If, well we could all say if now couldn’t we. But we have only got what we see in front of us today, haven’t we. If we choose to keep picking up our suitcases of rubble, well it could be a weight on the shoulders, let alone the heart. If for example rejection hangs around in the side pockets of your rucksack, refuses to budge, well then it could take a lifetime to feel free, I guess. If during the dance, the movements of quickstep or dive-bombing or soft shoe shuffle we manage to squash or kick off that sticky tricky yucky shadow stuff, so be it, and if we do, goodness knows what we could manage to cope with in the here and now, like today if we feel all is lost, not as we would really like it, or if someone has been real mean and said hurtful words about you and yes rejected that essence of you, well who knows, how it might be in this moment, the springboard to see everything in 3D or 4D or 5D is a possibilty isn’t it?