I leaned my head back and looked up today, experienced the heavenly height of the sky. No focus necessary and yet it’s clear, just blue, soft, cool and going out to space, full of light, invisible waves penetrating the atoms of by body without hindrance. Could feel something in me flow out and travel straight out, all those hardworking little inner eye muscles relaxed, tension released through my temples and flowing down. Made a mental note to do it again, maybe get a mat to lie on and just gaze up. See the occasional winged creative, the ring of branches out on the wide edges of my particular circle of firmament. Hard to imagine how one could forget to look at the sky. I hear that prairie folks neglect their skies much less, and that there’s a kind of soul difference in those sky people, gives rise to a kind of poetic nature. No objects to measure and count, no containers to build, no restrictions, only color, movement or stillness, light or shadow, and sometimes the smell of a storm.
Look up. Look waaayyy up.