As you age, the world gets away from you. You care less about external events. You’ve seen that show before. The faces change but the plot lines repeat.
Time marches on. Despite naive, arrogant claims, nobody can stop it.
Physical death awaits.
Until then, here you are.
Alone. Just you, wrapped in a bubble of consciousness.
Inside the bubble, you’re God. You create it all.
Focus your attention & something springs to life. Remove your attention & it disappears.
Redirect your attention, redirect your life.
You are the puppet of attention, until you become aware that you pull your own strings.
Youth don’t get this. It takes experience & perspective. These take time.
As we season, we remove attention from unchangeable externals. We no longer need that grit to polish our essence. We shimmer from the setting of our choice.
We become misers, hoarding & fixating our priceless attention on our most precious interests. We’ve learned there is no outer world. Just us & our consciousness.
We withhold attention from drama.
Outside our bubble, the faces change. The plot lines repeat. The relentless polishing continues.
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