Article voiceover
Over the Selkirks, the sun squeezes color as if out of a tube of paint and smears it across the clouded canvas of the eastern sky. My longing joins it in breathing harmony — and the feeling that the earth is above the sky, the sky below the earth overcomes me in the moment of pausing between breaths, the feeling that I am the sweet spot in the chaos where the breathing rhythm of the universe is revealed to be a dance we've all joined where no misstep is possible in the end because every step is after all part of the dance. Call it a waltz if you wish or call it a school of fish or a murmuration of light and cloud and mountain and tree where we lose ourselves in love and forget what we were frightened of.
A beautiful little work worth remembering. And rereading. Wonderful.
As you say - and celebrate - the sweet spot.