The Infinitely Creative

Just returned from a walk, a chilly, gray visit to the beach. It was low tide, as January seems the low tide of the year, but my dogs were lively, seabirds went about their business. Thought of the moon pulling the tide like a hand coiling a spring. It’ll release, the tide’ll rise, either way, there’s turbulence, interaction–gravitation with planet, wind with water, a churning, a constant striking of sparks from flint.

It strikes me, so to speak, that there’s no need for a creator in a universe that is all creativity. It is its own creator.

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