It was with doubt that i imagined this afternoon without imagination and all the destructive elements of a mind conditioned with the abrasive techniques to belong. I was somewhat clear in the haze of the air, the people doing their lives as if they knew it all, but wanted more. The wind was strong, the snow slid across the air lightly and the sun glared against the salt-wet pavement with a feverish intensity. I had no hope as i looked into the eyes of reality, a calm gaze silently observing the noise surrounding me. Those few moments when beauty encompasses everything and love seems to bind all into itself.

I questioned if there was a way to be in this field of grace always, to carry this awareness into every moment of my life. Why does this come and go without any apparent way to create a method to hold onto this way of being. All one can do is to eleviate what is not real, what has been created by the mind replacing what is before you. The constant pursuing of being aware, seeing what is, not changing a thing, watching thought as it weaves in and out of the crevasses on the mind.