I’ve always been observant.
Watched how the world flows around and through me.
How I respond to events.
It’s why, I suppose, the human world I was brought up in left me feeling so empty.
I become enraptured by natural aesthetics.
Landscapes for the soul.
The way form flows into function and folds out again.
Is a plant just something pretty to look at?
Given to us by gods that died before the human took form.
With so few Summers left, I want to make the most of my time in this body.
Not run away from it.
Be present to each moment as much as I can.
Not in some transcendent, religious way.
In a human way.
The most spiritual beings alive are the ones who are ordinary.
The commoners. The many.
You and I are not special.
Neither is any other living being on this beautiful, fragile planet.
An acceptance of our own fragility and mystery.
The one that lies inside our skin.
Outside the dominion of petty usurpers with their limited outlook on life.
And so the way to return to our humanity is to look closely.
Be with life as each moment unfolds.
I heard a beautiful quote last night.
Not one of those fuzzy, wet lick in the ear, sugary new-age vapid quotes.
A beautiful, human quote, and one that struck deeply that it made me pause the film I was watching to write it down.
It is this:
‘Attention is the rarest and purist form of generosity’ – Simone Weil
I love that quote.
It costs nothing but the mastery of such a skill.