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For every blade of grass, the universal path.

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I look out over this city and my eyes see looming buildings, and sparkling lights that are beautiful, to most. My ears hear cars drive by and faint music as people start their nights and end their days. I can smell smoke through my nose from the day's last cigarette of the man below me.

But what I see and what my senses percieve are two very, very different things. What I really see is a line of carefully calculated piles, columns, and towers of carefully calculated bull****. What I smell is the filthy, artificial scent of massive congregations of sleepwalkers. What I really hear is the snoring of millions of dreaming human beings.

Why such a rough outlook? Well, we are asleep. We our dreaming and our sleepwalker's insanity causes us to bind meanings and emotions to small pieces of the grand artifical system all around us. Our phones and appointments, our cars and contracts, our liars and lawyers are all products of our diseased collective consciousness. Our fake world and our fake lives have caused you, the real, untainted you, to die in your sleep.

But this is not all that I see, because there is a waking life on the other side of this city that not many of it's residents are aware of. I see millions of hearts, and millions of people in love. Some are in love with the others around them, and some are in love with the paper in their wallets. I hear the sounds of the oceans and forests, and the natural music that flows like time throughout all systems of life. I smell fresh air. I feel the brilliance of billions of lives, millions of species, all connected to the very ground we live on and the commitment to it we share.

Life doesn't fret for a football game, or a celebrity, or its hair or car or coffee or even small green pieces of paper. The true beauty in the life around us is its simplicity. The true majesty is in the interconnected way in which everything peacefully functions. Life doesn't want a new phone for Christmas, or a new car for its 16th birthday. Life simply wants to exist.

So I dare to say that it is not me who is delusional. It's the people who have drempt that there is nothing more important than the devices they have made. It's the people who seek meaning and beauty in a paycheck instead of a world teeming with diversity. It is the people who knowingly put the well being of a planet behind progress on a fairy tale economic or social ladder. I'd like to see these people's money create. I'd like to see them take a piece of their economy and use it to plant a new life. I'd like to see their green paper repair our rapidly greying planet.

But most of all, I would like every dreamer to see the beauty in nature that I see, and feel the simple, amazing forces of life that I know twirl and tumble around all of us.

In order to do that, though, first they just need to wake up.





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