So much is going on out here. I hadn’t seen it. I had seen it. But seeing is a slippery, mind-of-its-own thing. Truly to see you have to stop. And stay. You have to stretch. Something. Anything. You have to stop scanning and start landing. You have to do what I guess is all those Buddhist things of being fully in the present. Ho hum. No.
Nothing of ritual, not even of breathing. Nothing organised. Nothing already figured out and published and passed down. Nothing. In fact, nothing is it. Of course there is no nothing. There is only everything all at once all of the time all together.
Go out there. Sit. See. See no thing; see the sequence, the connectors, the transitions. See the invisible wildness willing the seeable song or hop or bath or pecking or burrowing or scampering. It seems like only this and that. But it is world after world after world of somethings.