I’m standing on my balcony.

Watching stuff.

Hearing things.

And I realize:

Looking at the world, dividing it into things we recognize and have given a name, doesn’t mean we understand it.

At all.

I see what we call trees, bushes, a neighbor washing her window, a seagull and a blackbird, red and blue and yellow houses.

I hear the rain, and the wind, or the sound we call wind, in the leaves.

There seems to be a world going on, lives seemingly lived, but that doesn’t explain anything or mean anything.

Words are not the aliveness, the changes, the wholeness.

Seeing the world as we think we know it, is an experience.

And it’s not even that.

We can never understand life.

But living it is SO exquisite.

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(Photo by @kellysikkema, for Unsplash)