Why do we eat refried beans? because we like to fart?
And is it human nature that we think what we produce smells fine?
Why does the human produce a problem?
This is deep stuff.
Why is the only answer from the mountain climber I can get to the question why he climbs is “because it's there?”
If there was no problem to solve would we even be here?
If Frank Sinatra did it his way, what way am I doing it? Not his?
And why should we feed colored sugared water to a humming bird when it's clear he is smarter than you and goes directly to the orange tree because it's natural? do we think we can improve on mother nature?
Does the human who is being, need to give himself away? And does this human get worried when there is no takers?
And do we all consider it is but our season here to become seasoned in reason?
And is reason born in the heart strings?
Or is it that you cannot give it away or at once you have become too free? and then another problem is produced for the solving.
And if there is wisdom lacking in the loving gesture then where can wisdom be found?
Should we spend all the day overturning rocks for wisdom? for knowledge?
Should we give one another little papers with seals of gold which say we are accomplished?
Was the paper from god? Who or what is god?
Or did we chop a tree down which came from mother nature, our cradle to destroy, and make the paper and the seal from the tree, a tree which was alive and now is dead and was not given a proper funeral, and did we speak as god and say it was good and write it down therefore it was good twice for we penned it and said that was good also.
And did all nod their heads and murmer it must be good?
Also, did we take the word good and subtract an “o” from this word and say now we have a “god?”
Can we take our papers with us when we die to the heavens where the final mystery resides?
Or will the gatekeepers just laugh mirthfully if you try, and ask you for your heart?
But where is the heart of the matter? you with your elevated position and suitcase of certificates might utter in consternation to these who guard the portals of heaven; where?
If they are kind, these who have their knowings, they may only say a few words that this one might be able to accept; “you forgot to look for the heart.” You did not look under the rock. An angel asked you for bread and you gave a stone in return. 
We will give you one more chance, these keepers may well have said. Then we will give you another chance if you fail again, but someday, like us, you're going to have to stop gilding the lily white heart with tar and let the heart lead you home, where your fire has always been kept burning to keep off the chill and a lamp in the window as well. You cannot flee from the atmosphere you live within and breath. Welcome home traveler of rough seas. You never really left.
