This morning I am doing what I want to be doing. The airport waits for me.
Now to make more of this happen. Or allow, perhaps. Because this is always here.
It’s like some particular topic of interest. Right now I’m hearing everyone (ok not everyone) around me talk about topics I’m interested in. I think it must be some new thing but, but no. It’s just new to me. There are books. Old books. And people wrote blog posts years ago.
It’s just new to me. It has been there all along.
The life I envision has been there all along, too. It was just waiting for me to notice it. Now I am gently pointed in that direction, and I see that it’s not that far. And yet so far when I don’t see it.
Remember the time when you saw the gossamer veils separating the universes, each person in his own universe? On Lake Avenue, of all places.
See-through yet there, as easy to pass through as smoke. Are these walls? Horizons? Or just illusions that separate me from you, my world from yours? Your possibilities from yourself and my possibilities from myself? Illusions that can be trivially exploded?
All of those universes are available and exist, except for those who see only their own universe and perceive the smoky veil as an end beyond which there is no more.
I’m passing through the smoke again and seeing what has always been there.