A baker sees the world in terms of hunger and sustaining.
And scents of toasty, secure warmth.
A certain delight that comes with passing risen grasses and sugars through the mouth.
A carpenter sees planks in trees.
Possibility on a hillside.
Space within a frame tied by nails and drywall.
An artist sees things to be seen another way.
Realities with different colors.
Languages with hidden meanings.
Thoughts that could be twisted.
A pilot sees a somewhere beyond the horizon.
A destination to be pinpointed and approached with wonder.
A place attainable but unlike here.
But the demonstrative vocation of all men – the one specific to the specie – is to play hide and seek.
Like Alan Watts described, this strange creature has a habit of losing the car keys in order to delight in their discovery.
Of knowing then unknowing, deciding to fool the self, for the sake of some giggle.
Because at any given time you know where everything is.
But your denial makes it interesting.
Your vocation is a search for things already posessed.
The light of God within you, but at arm’s length like a perfectly warmed cup of coffee awaiting your lips.
And you flex back and forth, thinking there’s a lesson in your mundane patterns.
And there’s baking and eating.
Building and tearing down.
Fiddling with thoughts.
Deciding and going.
Even simply waiting and watching for change.
The high jets from LAX aiming directly east.
The new woman walking a mutt down the hill outside the patio.
The snails on a plastic fence moving from dew drop to dew drop.