
I have out-lived the desire to return
to so many photo-worthy places,
this being one.
The images are worthy-enough reminders
of what's there--or was there--
to connect me with what is everywhere
in all places for eyes that see.
And, it takes sitting until we see
to see what we are looking at
anywhere all the time.
Do we take the time is the question.
Are we interested enough to bother?
Too busy to care?
What drives our boat
on its path through the sea?
What are we seeking?
What are we after?
What is the life that is ours to live,
even now, even yet, even so?
And what do places like this one,
Big Creek, in April of 2004,
have to do with connecting us
with the life that is our life to live?
Where do we go to be so connected?
How open are we to being connected?
To seeing what we look at?
To finding what we seek?
To be so pulled into the moment
that we can't miss it,
and have to stop
and be there for a while,
and return often.
The key is knowing it is right here,
right now.
We have been living with, in, around
the life that is ours to live
all our life long,
not knowing what we were doing.
Now we know what we are doing,
looking for what we have been doing
that is IT,
always has been,
always will be.
Asking questions is my life to live.
Looking out the window.
Connecting the dots.
Reflection-Realization-Recognition...
Always has been,
always will be.
All I've missed is knowing what I was about
while being about it.
Now that I know it,
I do it knowingly.
That is the only difference.
How far are we ever
from the life that is our life to live?
If all it takes is reflection/realization/recognition?
It is always just right there, waiting.
For us to wake up
and see what we have been looking at
all this time.
It isn't as though we have missed anything.
We have merely been preparing to see
what has always been there all this time.
Now that we know about reflecting/realizing/recognizing,
we can take our time,
and begin looking at what we are looking at
as though for the first time.
"Arriving at the place we started
and knowing it" finally, at last (T.S. Eliot).
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