We hold it up to the light; we respect its shadows.
We acknowledge its soft curves and sharp corners, and we see ourselves in them.
This seeing invites intimacy with our experience and surroundings – instead of scurrying past, we pause to befriend the world and know its stories.
This kind of attention deepens what it is to be alive – entirely, gratefully alive.
Without the attention, we’re just breathing in and out, and thinking nothing of it.
This is it, my friend – your moment, cupped in your hand.
This is your red wheelbarrow, glazed with rainwater.
Caress your meditation with poetry.
And see, see, see.