Today i became marooned, on foot, in the midst of eight lanes of traffic, four zooming in one direction, for zooming and honking in the other. Radios boomed and thumped through window glass; drivers could be seen singing along, cursing the driver in front of them, or doing both at once.

Although it was morning in the city, it was quite hot already. i stood perspiring on the concrete island in this asphalt river, and i was there for some time.

All at once, i became aware that the concrete island had a planter that took up most of its length. The flowers were blooming riotously, and already, at that early hour, in tremendous heat, smog and noise, dozens of bumble bees were working the flowers. They seemed almost cheerful about it. No, better: they were just being bumble bees.

So i thought, "today i am striving to be more like a bumble bee." But that just made me more like a person: wishing, striving to be something other than i was, something approachable to some degree and yet unattainable.

Then i thought: "i shall be like the traffic island: impervious, unshakeable, steady."

You see where this is going, i'm sure. And you're much quicker than i.

God has given me the bumble bee and the concrete island and i have understood that i am both of these things, and more. We are very nearly Divine; all of us, all of this, comes from the hearts of distant stars.

And so i only sat down to write this to you to let you know that i've just now begun to work on being all these things, which is to say, being truly myself.

--Mr. Gobley