Beauty, Movement II: Some Eyes See

Some eyes see a tree and know it's a tree.

Some eyes see a tree and know it's the answer.
Some eyes don't see it.

Some eyes see the branches dancing.
Some eyes see all sails are full.
Some eyes see the wind.

Some eyes see a book and know it's a book.
Some eyes see a book and know it's a tree.
Some eyes see something else entirely.

Some eyes I've met.
Some eyes I've yet to meet.
Sometimes I fantasize what only
your eyes might foresee.

Still awake. Must I call this sleeplessness? Is there some spin I can whirl within this word, to turn it into something beautiful to me? To be honest, I feel rather fortunate to experience what I do when bedtime hours pass. It's as though my fingers simply move. Music simply plays. Words simply appear. Nothing tries to be anything, everything simply is.

I've been thinking a lot about the world we choose to see. The Me I choose to Be. The You you choose to Be. I love that some people see the Hollywood sign up close and feel total awe and wild excitement, while others step forward and say "... that's it?" I love that some people hear a song and it becomes their mantra, their senior quote, their first dance. Other people hear that same song, go straight to youtube, and state their appalling reaction unashamedly loud and clear.

It opens my eyes to the idea that it's never actually the thing, the song, even the person, providing the love (or lack thereof), it actually is some force in us. When the cliches are stripped away, and my mind lets go of the idea that "oh, we've heard all that before", it's awesome to be re-minded that We Are the Keepers of Our Fire. And all things are oxygen if we choose them to be. I like to picture myself as one who sees the oxygen in everything. That even seemingly bad things -- who am I to judge -- are here to grow my.your.our fire

Today, when I wake up after sleeping in, I choose to see all things as beautiful. I mean, let's face it, they already are (astoundingly so) with or without my acknowledgement. But I believe there's power and magic in linking arms with the way things are. Infinite. Immaculate. Miraculous. (Truly)

I am grateful to find that sleeplessness is really just sisters with awesomeness (and together they throw one heck of a dance party). I'm excited to wake up to the beautiful world I choose.

After all!,
Beauty Is In the Eye of the Bee Holder

One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Canvas

I choose to see you today 

to remind you how absurdly beautiful you are.
R