I have a theory that the moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.
I have tried this experiment a thousand times and I have never been disappointed.
The more I look at a thing, the more I see in it, and the more I see in it, the more I want to see. It is like peeling an onion.
There is always another layer, and another, and another. And each layer is more beautiful than the last.
This is the way I look at the world. I don't see it as a collection of objects, but as a vast and mysterious organism.
I see the beauty in the smallest things, and I find wonder in the most ordinary events. I am always looking for the hidden meaning, the secret message. I am always trying to understand the mystery of life.
I know that I will never understand everything, but that doesn't stop me from trying.
I am content to live in the mystery, to be surrounded by the unknown.
I am content to be a seeker, a pilgrim, a traveler on the road to nowhere.
You can find this passage in Henry Miller’s fantastic book—Black Spring.
This makes me think of Keats and his ideas of being receptive and nonjudgmental- “when a man is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason.”
I love all this
Oh! My coffee tastes so much more satisfying….
while smiling as I read this morning.
Thank you