The truth, should you care, is that nothing’s going on here.
Grasp that and you can flip into the other truth that everything’s going on here.
And all is and forever was for you.
It takes no effort to see that everything, always is brilliant.
What takes effort is in finding conflict where there is none.
Honking indignantly at another car.
What delicious farce.
Plotting against an imaginary group of oppressors.
Like Winston in 1984 finally loving a brother that doesn’t exist.
Waiting for praise from a boss that isn’t yours.
Oh the conflict of waiting.
But the everything world is always under the nose, awaiting your discovery.
The tiny miracles of moment.
A nursery full of five different kinds of butterflies.
A game of smash the mosquito against your leg.
A coffee cup on your table designed by someone else far away – to look like a chalice for a Greek emperor.
Grass seed under peat moss, waiting to come up as green flags in later days.