What does it mean to see the world as a meditator? Eyes soft, bright and wide. The full moon rising over the building across the street. The crisp white of the new Jeep waiting at the red light outside the window of this cafe. The shadows of my hand and pen on the paper becoming refined from the internal light as the natural light of the world outsides fades from dusk to dark. A shared, gentle kiss on the cheek between two friends as they meet beside me at the end of this unseasonably warm day, the last day of February of a year that seems to have just begun yesterday.
I observe the world around me and feel myself in a state of marvel. Each moment is new. I do not know what will unfold one moment into the next, and each moment eternity, each moment the only one.
How did I get here in this place out of time completely immersed in time?
Breath by breath, fluid structure flowing with the intention of awareness, of noticing, of observing and sensing, non-judging, allowing as the heart of compassion expands.
The cells of my body awaken. I perceive the experience through more than my eyes. Understand with a wisdom more ancient than my fifty-one years. My tongue hasn't the dexterity to express the language of this knowing. I sit still, in motion, awed by the ordinary.
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