My training with Mio [1]
continues. It’s such a privilege. Once again his infinitive nature flow guided me to
another insight.
It was some days ago when Marcus and him came to the house for a chat. At
some point Mio shouted “Look at this!” and both Marcus and I turned to see it.
He was poining into some kind of a giant bee that was lying on the floor wits its legs up to the air.
“What’s it called?” I asked him, while forcing my neurons to come up with this simple
question in my rudimentary Swedish.
In a very calm voice, Mio answered something indistinctive so I had to ask
Marcus to help me out with the translation.
His answer was simple, as life.
“It’s dead. It doesn’t have a name”, he said.
A sharp wood like bang penetrated deep inside my memory loving mind.
“Of course they don’t!” I realized.
His voice carried the sound of an apple falt on the ground.
So much time I have wasted holding on to the names that have long gone.
The time that I have wasted on getting older.
Finally, thanks to Mio's uncorrupted 4 years of life, I got to crank
into Picasso’s koan:
“It takes a very long time to be young again”
And it’s never too late.
Tack så mycket, master Mio.
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