MOLEHOOD

Every once in a while, because I have been too long at a desk in an office in a building in a city or some other abnatural state of existence and feel as though I am about to dissipate in a cloud of dark vapor like an occult being about to be exposed to sunlight, I step outside the house into the weekend morning garden onto actual earth to existify amidst the sensual actualities of the very nature that begot every basal aspect of my existence, and am surprised by the luxurious softness of the ground that formerly was as hard as winter.

Which is my roundabout way of getting to the subject of the ecstatic Mr. Mole, or Mogura-chan (Molie) as I call him. This morning Kaya and I were outside getting spinach and stuff from the garden when we noticed that over by the stone wall beside the steps Mogura-chan had run around underground in loops and whirls of no particular destination like a madmole, but given the naturalness of his life he was more likely having a party or had just fallen madly in love, it wasn't organized at all-- not that moles have to be organized like a guy in a office or anything, its just that judging by his moundy tracks he looked like he was really letting off some sort of funsteam down there, whirling through the earth like Fred Astaire across a ballroom floor, having the time, essentially, of his life...

Molehood is a worthy ambition.