the thing is, words fail to capture their description, especially in the essence of letting go of the need for descriptions themselves. I am witness to earth with life branched out to reach the sky, there's fresh color, vibrant, just now beginning to appear, and various forms of mystery alight for just amount before again reaching for the air. Just as mysterious is my own seeing, a sudden opening, spacious, that seems to allow these things to appear, including the sense of there being a witness to it all. Everything is seamless, just life happening on it's own terms without interference of my interpretation. The magic was, and always is, in the experience. Today, I saw a tree in beginning bloom, birds sitting briefly on it's offered branch before again seeking flight. But for the briefness of a moment - there was the grace of truly seeing.
~
Peace,
Eric
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