I could try to convince myself that it could have been otherwise, could have been held within its original hue of wholeness, but the truth is that right that evening on a waxing moon the shadows belied solidity and there was a slight breeze within the depths of the forest that seemed to calm all need for further deliberation about whether a tiny hint of a crack in the thinnest part of the bowl, a hint that might not even have been a hint should be a cause for worry. I decided to explore it and moved deeper and deeper as if following the breeze that was urging the moon's brightness to ride the entangled branches and ended up with a sense of space that allowed me to smile at its whimsical challenge to what we might "ordinarily" think of as a bowl just as we might accept all phases of our moons within their own sense of containing fullness, wholeness, completeness.
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