Darkness. Philosophy. Not knowing what is coming but coming prepared anyway. How? Laughter. Eagerly anticipating (is that so?) or slightly unsteady. Fearful, maybe a little. Meanwhile, as still as the desert sand, life is. Are we? Not knowing but here and ready. We say. I tell the story about the pupil who wants to learn swordplay. Years of drudgery, complaints to the master, then the master agreeing to take him on, surprising him left and right. Smashing him on the head this time but not the next. Long pause. Not knowing what to make of this story. Therefore, not ready after all. Laughter. Open now to letting new things come in.