This week, so much immensity, whether the Campsie mesa to the north (above) or the expansive views from just behind Eaglesham to the south (below).
It is this immensity, this immeasurability, that man needs to tap back into if he is going to survive himself. Just being here forces the mind to space out, to fall into a spontaneous meditative way, to enrich itself. Too much calculation and analysis has impoverished the human to the point now where his whole world if not the entire cosmos is quantifiable and calculable. I am always slightly worried when people ask me how many miles I do when I'm out and about. I never count them, I reply. It's not about the distance, or the quantity. I have no idea how many miles I have done on my bike, but I do know that my body-mind appreciates it, the qualitative aspect that cycling through such serene and massive landscapes will confer.
Calculation separates. Meditation federates.
The way to the goal cannot be measured...
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