There
is a small green island where one white cow lives, alone, a meadow of an island.
The cow grazes until nightfall, full and fat, but during the night she panics
and grows thin as a single hair. “What shall I eat tomorrow? There’s nothing
left!” By dawn the grass has grown up again, waist-high. The cow starts eating
and by dark the meadow is clipped short. She is full of strength and energy,
but she panics in the darkness as before and grows abnormally thin overnight.
The cow does this over and over, and this is all she does. She never thinks, This
meadow has never failed to grow back. Why should I be afraid every night that
it won’t. The cow is the bodily soul. The island field is this world where that
grows lean with fear and fat with blessing, lean and fat. White cow, don’t make
your self miserable with what’s to come or not to come.
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