I keep trying to hold onto what I see. There’s a thing here. It has its boundaries. My hand reaches for it, I know where it ends, and the air begins. I divide everything. I categorize and contain—at least that’s what I enjoy telling myself.

The distractions keep changing shape, but does their nature change? When one entertainment replaces another, what is being replaced at all? I like challenging everything, as if completion could come through combat. But isn’t this hunger another form of fullness pretending to be empty?

What am I doing here? Sometimes, not knowing feels just better than being specific.

To the imitation zone!

What needs validation? And from where would it come? Each attempt to prove something merely proves the need to prove. Fighting what I can’t see, seeing that.

Support and approval move around each other, never touching. When does disagreement become confirmation? When does confirmation become disagreement?

I notice how freedom slips away when I try to grasp it through others’ eyes. It’s like trying to see my face without a mirror—the attempt creates futility.

Everybody loves to root for a nuisance.

What offends the unoffendable? What challenges are complete? All this dueling and comparing is my mind entertaining itself with stories of more and less.

These questions perhaps sound silly until they’re not. They’re like trying to find the exact edge of a cloud or the precise moment day becomes night. The more I look, the less clear boundaries I find.

When I pay attention, everything starts bleeding into everything else. The glass isn’t separate from the light that shows it to me. When I pull any thread, the entire fabric starts unraveling.

Is this a valuable way to think? Can I function if I see through all my mind’s convenient separations?

There’s really no conflict now. I can see things as distinct and see how they’re not different. Both views are available. Both are practical, everyday, and deeper-looking. This ends all the boundaries.

And just maybe I’m to blame for all I’ve heard…

So, I find myself trying to turn these musings into another defined thing to hold. But that’s my mind doing what minds do—trying to package everything into neat containers. Even knowing no containers exist becomes another container if I’m not careful.

What if I could hold both ways of seeing at once? I let things be things. When they need to be things, I allow them to dissolve. But when they show themselves dissolving? Can I not choose between views but let each arise as required?

Maybe everyone tends to move between these ways of seeing, even if they don’t notice. The solid world of separate objects is always here. The flowing world where nothing stands alone is always here.

That’s what makes everyday life mysterious; it’s ordinary and impossible.

You are always welcome.