Everything is as is. Nobody, however, can see. A rose flowered in the middle of a field and everyone sees something different. Amongst these people, there is someone who sees me in that rose, and someone who sees you. Somebody sees a rose they saw when they were a child, perhaps one their lover gave them yesterday, last week or in another life.

The smell reminds someone of a perfume, of a girl, of an evening, of a dinner date, The colour reminds someone of blood, of pain, of joy. And yet others see a rose.

Nobody, however, can see. Not this rose, with its own uniqueness, with its own joy and bliss and love. It is expressing itself - unlimited. For that which it wishes to express is limited and can be expressed in its mere existence. The joy and greater sadness of consciousness, the way we use it anyway, is that existence is not enough to express ourselves - not safely (for society) anyway.

As I trampled on this rose, I realise that I have no regret, no remorse. The rose expressed itself. It was happy, in bliss, for to express, to be expressed is enough, more than enough - in fact, it seems to be what all of existence yearns for.

Oh you might say - what about the people who might enjoy the rose. Who enjoys the rose? People, at best enjoy the memories triggered by the beauty of this creature. They cannot even see it, then how can they appreciate it?

Memories are dead things - the most dead thing in the world - why? what is the point in keeping something so that someone may further flog the proverbial dead horse. They cannot let the memories go. They think the memories are them, define them, mould them. And it does - it creates a mould around them. Stops them, restricts them - keeps them within the niche, the rut they have created for themselves.

I do not understand how someone can live, survive as a mere shadow of how they are supposed to be. How someone can do that so easily is so far beyond me. Everyone is drenched in misery - dripping in the rain, with barely a rainbow. Yearning for, waiting for that rainbow and once the rainbow is there, so afraid of the sunlight which will wipe out the rainbow.

And of course if someone gets as far as the sunlight, they will then be scared of the rain next.

It would seem that misery and fear is the greatest joy for people. As an objective viewer, which I am not, I suspect, this may be an easy observation to make.

You want to be happy - what’s stopping you?

Really? What is stopping you?

If the entire world expressed itself fully and fully, it would disintegrate any semblance of society and anarchy would ensue. The truth is that people are sick. Once all the sickness is expressed, and out, in the past, as anything expressed instantly is. Let go of it, move on and you have utopia.

There is no need for technology, no need for power, no need for structure. Humans as a group, free group, free of the repressed are beautiful creatures like the rose and death is no longer feared by one who has lived.

Death is not a fear for one who is living. We are all so dead - just mechanically following the procedure and process book of life - one step at a time and hoping that the book didn’t lie when it said that it would eventually bring us all to joy - secretly (perhaps unbeknownst even to themselves) more importantly, freedom. Not freedom to do something but freedom from! Everything! So that we have a chance, a time, a space to just be ourselves.

I say - why wait? Be YOU. Screw the world!

There is only one rule. Never stop. That which you think is you is a lie. It will pass. You will find that the things you think you want to do are actually not the things you actually want to do. They just seem like good ideas from where you are. It will pass - you will go through it - just pay attention to see if you still want that. It will change - I promise. Everything does. It will pass - everything does.

Pay attention. What do you want? What’s stopping you? I am not talking about silly little things. I am talking about expressing yourself. Things that don’t rely on the meagre contribution another human being, or another creature could make into your life. Why should anyone contribute to your life? How much are you contributing to your own? and I don’t mean surviving. I mean nearly 8,000,000,000 - that’s seven BILLION people manage to survive.

Do something different - Be You!