Watchfulness. 

Books ask for our attention

and when we give it

they teach us to see

Watchfulness is the path of immortality; unwatchfulness is the path of death. Those who are watchful never die; those who are unwatchful are already as dead.

The monk who has the joy of watchfulness and looks with fear on thoughtlessness, he goes on his path like a fire, burning all obstacles both great and small.
— The Dhammapada, 2: 21, 31
I am learning to see. I don’t know why it is, but everything enters me more deeply and doesn’t stop where it once used to. I have an interior I never knew of. Everything passes into it now. I don’t know what happens there.

Have I said it before? I am learning to see. Yes I am beginning. It’s going badly. But I intend to make the most of my time.
— Ranier Marie Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurdis Brigge
Who doesn’t love
roses, and who
doesn’t love the lilies
of the black ponds

floating like flocks
of tiny swans,
and of course, the flaming
trumpet vine

where the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness -

and who doesn’t want
to live with the brisk
motor of his heart
singing

like a Schubert
and his eyes
working and working like those days of rapture,
by Van Gogh in Arles?

Look! for most of the world
is waiting
or remembering -
most of the world is time

when we’re not here,
not born yet, or died -
a slow fire
under the earth with all
our dumb wild blind cousins
who also
can’t even remember anymore
their own happiness -

Look! and then we will be
like the pale cool
stones, that last almost
forever.
— Mary Oliver, "Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine”
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The Dare