The brown-feathered goose would make his approach. He circled. He teased. He provoked.
The white feathered beauty would react. His neck extended. His back arched. He was on the defensive...ready and poised to attack.
The brown-feathered one - always retreated...and then turned around and began his approach all over again. And so it was - on and on - the endless battle that they fought.
I wondered - for how many hours...for how many days - does this happen? Is it a win-win game..or is it one in which everyone loses? is it a game..or is it something more serious than that?
Madness - I thought. To do this same thing..to dance this same dance..to perform this same ritual - time after time and one more time and again. Who - in their right mind - does these kinds of things?
And there I was. In the same spot that found me yesterday..and the day before that. Each day different..and yet - each day so much the same. I wondered. About my daily practice. About what I do. I wondered - who in their - 'right mind' - does this this too?
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