Pay Attention
We are in the presence of Art. Art Is. All That Is is All That Is and All That Is is Art. High Beauty. Do you pay attention? The misery is as miraculous as the moon if you look with the right eyes. Can you see? Do you see it? Right here. Right here. Is it ever not here? If so, where is there? Ha. Fun. Life is fun. Hard fun. Quite a nice game. We die. Therefore, what shall we do in the meantime? What is it? The movement of Life. The eternal motion of change. Unfolding. Much like the clouds roll and loaf. Loaf. That's a fun word. Loaf. Words are strange because they are not the thing. I say Cloud. And we think of that fluffy white thing floating above in the blue. But what is it? Surely not "cloud". Cloud is Art. Humanity is Art. Misery is Art. Life is Art. Gorgeous. So dynamic and fluid and monumental, like the moaning ocean moving. What is it? Why is it? Hmmm.... To be sure, it is here. Do you pay attention? How does it move? It is there within you. Moving. Sometimes we see a sunset like a fat peach over the hills and we are rapt. No time. Then we think of something, "oh why did I say that to him yesterday, so stupid!" and the marvelous sunset is gone and we are in conflict, concern on our brow. Then we squirm, "wait! I want that sunset again! what's wrong with me? I can't pay attention!" Then we try to recapture that moment of beauty. Is this process separate from the imensity of Life? Is this struggle somehow "not meant to be." Or is it here as it is intended? Is there anything removed from Life? The Movement of Life. Here It Is. This Is It. Right Here Right Now. Right? Is it different for you? Is this how your mind works, too? The Extraordinary Movement of Life. Discovering Itself. Unraveling the Mystery. Desperate To Wake Up From The Dream. The Illusion. This Is Art. Art Is. All Is All. Do you think? Do you see? When You See You Will Know And When You Know You Will Watch. Watch What It Is. And All Is. ALL. Can you see it All? There is not a branch bare of leaves on this Tree. All Leaves Are Part Of The Tree. The Fear. The Flight. The Returning. The Rolling Of Life. Like A Wheel Turning On Itself. I Love You.