A robin chirps, scolds, exclaims in one way, loudly, urgently, but sings from a treetop in another, sweetly, yet with remarkable projection, and you think there must be two kinds of birds making these sounds, not one.
The little boy next door explains and describes things in a tongue not always easy to understand, yet you feel and are caught up in his happiness. And then later that same day, when you hear him crying from the other side of the fence that separates his backyard from yours, you wonder if that can also be him.
A woman, all business and perfume one day, then tender and vulnerable the next, in soft clothing which, for the life of you, seems as if it has already begun to melt.
A man up early, with a fishing pole, walking down a hillside to the edge of a lake before the heat of the day is on, father and son all at once, teacher and disciple, each in pursuit of his own thoughts; is this the same man who returned years ago from the war with nightmares and dysentery?
An obstacle appears in your path, its strength and size grows and recedes in direct proportion to the resistance you give it. No resistance, no obstacle. No you, no path. Yet joy remains, and love. You are everywhere and everything.