Tumulus seat under an oak. Big grey and white clouds, a few drops of rain, thunder in distance to the west. A pleasant afternoon - little wind, diffuse light, someone is shouting far away, rain approaches from city... and it forced me to stop writing on the handheld.
I sat and watched as the rain moved slowly south-westward - it nearly always moves north-eastward. How I love these regularities, those of nature - but those of human edict I resist, why is that?
'Because he is always seeking out new possibilities, stable conditions suffocate him.'*
*The extraverted intuitive type, as described (or invented?) by C G Jung in Psychological Types, Routledge, London 1999, page 368. But he doesn't mention the stabilities of nature.