The willows along the interstate are turning a new-growth lime green, my bed spread is willow-green, and I refuse to be pinched today. Do not wake me from this green dream. I am in a Pennsylvanian seminar about the 64 yoginis, where 63 of them reside in the happening place of the event horizon and one yogini is the gravitational singularity, the black hole, a place of infinite density and zero volume. I wonder if the 63 yoginis are wearing green today. The one dense yogini is without color, unobserved, timeless, ready to exhale a green world into being.
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
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