I’m supposed to feel my feelings.  No be distracted with doing all the time.  Just sit there.  Here.  But the next ation comes up to my feet and meows incessantly for me to breathe, fix, move, plan, clean, pay, talk.

How can a human, merely being, create the spirit–or at least be aware of the spirit inside–by doing nothing.  Sure, it shows up.  We are obviously more than the sum of our parts.  But now what?  What to do with immense universal-sized spirit in a little blob of protoplasm among billions on the tiny (but beautiful) third rock from a smallish sun in a mid-sized galaxy at the edge of a roaming universe.

Just be I guess.