A Moment
I was puttering around the house, and all of a sudden, all the light in the house went pink. I stepped out on the second floor sleeping porch and saw the sky was on fire for a moment.

I was puttering around the house, and all of a sudden, all the light in the house went pink. I stepped out on the second floor sleeping porch and saw the sky was on fire for a moment.

After I have been working and studying intensely, I sometimes find myself called to lie underneath the cats and read fiction. Just because it isn’t hard work, doesn’t mean I won’t find treasures that further my explorations. This bit, for example: “Then he felt his heart floating again, sunlit and serene, impossibly heavy, impossibly light; he felt the earth itself balanced on his outstretched finger.” Patricia A. McKillip, Alphabet of Thorn.
This view is always there, we just do not always get to see it from our habitual place on the ground.
Sometimes people ask me how I can sometimes still feel unworthy or get depressed or be edgy with all the committed practice that I do. A friend said recently that an answer to that question might be to suggest what I might have been like if I was not doing the practices.