The heart is the matter. The moment is the moment.
When I see the world, it sees me back, staring in mute awareness.
The unobserved don’t exist and yet they do. The observed change by being observed. How does watching change things? What moves between the observed and the observer?
An exchange of photons? Vibrations? What could possibly exist without awareness?
What is awareness? What does the observing? You need to take away thinking and self-awareness because animals without these concepts are aware and observing. They know things exist when their senses show them.
Jellyfish sense and are aware.
Bacteria are aware.
Awareness is life and life is awareness. Rocks are not aware. A mineral is just static.
Static. Unchanging. Unaware.
What is really going on when something is animate? Are plants aware? Definitely. A bean plant climbing will curl itself around your finger like a child if you sit there long enough. And it will keep going to the light, growing flowers, spreading seeds, dying and brown and back into the ground and soil.
It’s “natural” yet utterly un-natural at the same time. When I walk on the beach, the water and the sky and the sand and the rock are so static that the rest of this, of myself, don’t make any sense.
I keep looking for the force. That underlying thing that drives this stuff. Watching a cat die from an injection and life ending is terrifying. A system ends, an awareness ends, a collection of lifeforms moves on or dies.
Reforming.
Re-aware.
Starting over.
What exactly am I again?