{"id":29150,"date":"2025-12-19T08:56:20","date_gmt":"2025-12-19T13:56:20","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=29150"},"modified":"2025-12-19T08:56:23","modified_gmt":"2025-12-19T13:56:23","slug":"dont-waste-your-time-seeking-just-open-your-eyes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2025\/12\/dont-waste-your-time-seeking-just-open-your-eyes\/","title":{"rendered":"Don’t Waste Your Time Seeking (Just Open Your Eyes)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

From whiskey river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em> (second paragraph):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The given is always at hand, in any situation in this given world; fullness of response to this gift is the goal; what needs to be improved by practice is our response\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Day and night gifts keep pelting down on us. If we were aware of this, gratefulness would overwhelm us. But we go through life in a daze. A power failure makes us aware of what a gift electricity is; a sprained ankle lets us appreciate walking as a gift, a sleepless night, sleep. How much we are missing in life by noticing gifts only when we are suddenly deprived of them.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(David Steindl-Rast [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sometimes it’s okay. Sometimes it’s not one desperate act after another. Sometimes we hear the music that is always there. As the old Irish homily goes: “The most beautiful music is the music of what happens.” It is not necessary to run to a remote, quiet place to hear it. It is here already, always. The essence of eternity is how we experience the present. The witnesses are here in ourselves. The fullness of our inheritance denies nothing.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Terrance Keenan [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Starfish<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is what life does. It lets you walk up to
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman
down beside you at the counter who says, Last night,
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you
were born at a good time. Because you were able
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland,
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Eleanor Lerman [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From elsewhere:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Found Letter<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What makes for a happier life, Josh, comes to this:
Gifts freely given, that you never earned;
Open affection with your wife and kids;
Clear pipes in winter, in summer screens that fit;
Few days in court, with little consequence;
A quiet mind, a strong body, short hours
In the office; close friends who speak the truth;
Good food, cooked simply; a memory that\u2019s rich
Enough to build the future with; a bed
In which to love, read, dream, and re-imagine love;
A warm, dry field for laying down in sleep,
And sleep to trim the long night coming;
Knowledge of who you are, the wish to be
None other; freedom to forget the time;
To know the soul exceeds where it\u2019s confined
Yet does not seek the terms of its release,
Like a child\u2019s kite catching at the wind
That flies because the hand holds tight the line.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Joshua Weiner [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Josh Barker was in big trouble. Big trouble indeed. He was only seven, but he was pretty sure his life was ruined. He hurried along Church Street trying to figure out how he was going to explain to his mom. An hour and a half late. Home long after dark. And he hadn’t called. And Christmas just a few days away. Forget explaining it to his mom, how was he going to explain it to Santa?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Santa might understand, though, since he knew toys. But Mom would never buy it. He’d been playing Barbarian George’s Big Crusade<\/em> on the PlayStation at his friend Sam’s house, and they’d gotten into the infidel territory and killed thousands of the ‘Rackies, but the game just didn’t have any way to exit. It wasn’t designed so you could ever get out of it, and before he knew it, it was dark outside and he’d forgotten, and Christmas was just going to be ruined. He wanted an Xbox 2, but there was no way Santa was going to bring it with a home long after dark<\/em> AND a didn’t even bother to call<\/em> on his list.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sam had summarized Josh’s situation as he led him out the door and looked at the night sky: “Dude, you’re hosed.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Christopher Moore [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Winter Morning<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I can no longer say thank you
for this new day and the waking into it,
for the cold scrape of the kitchen chair
and the ticking of the space heater glowing
orange as it warms the floor near my feet,
I know it\u2019s because I\u2019ve been fooled again
by the selfish, unruly man who lives in me
and believes he deserves only safety
and comfort. But if I pause as I do now,
and watch the streetlights outside flashing
off one by one like old men blinking their
cloudy eyes, if I listen to my tired neighbors
slamming car doors hard against the morning
and see the steaming coffee in their mugs
kissing chapped lips as they sip and
exhale each of their worries white into
the icy air around their faces\u2014then I can
remember this one life is a gift each of us
was handed and told to open: Untie the bow
and tear off the paper, look inside
and be grateful for whatever you find
even if it is only the scent of a tangerine
that lingers on the fingers long after
you\u2019ve finished peeling it.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(James Crew [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From whiskey river’s commonplace book (second paragraph): The given is always at hand, in any situation in this given world; fullness of response to this gift is the goal; what needs to be improved by practice is our response\u2026 Day and night gifts keep pelting down on us. If we were aware of this, gratefulness […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29151,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Eleanor Lerman, Christopher Moore, et al.: 'Don't Waste Your Time Seeking (Just Open Your Eyes)'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,1393,4701,250,4878,251,4159],"tags":[757,786,893,1559,3281,3290,3507,3551,6243],"class_list":{"0":"post-29150","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-everyday-life","8":"category-ruminations","9":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","10":"category-my-photography","11":"category-art","12":"category-fiction","13":"category-poetry-writing_cat","14":"category-essays","15":"tag-gratitude","16":"tag-eleanor-lerman","17":"tag-terrance-keenan","18":"tag-christopher-moore","19":"tag-winter","20":"tag-joshua-weiner","21":"tag-david-steindl-rast","22":"tag-gifts","23":"tag-james-crew","24":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/12\/itcountsifyoujustlook_johnesimpson.jpg?fit=1024%2C1024&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7Aa","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29150","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=29150"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29150\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29161,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29150\/revisions\/29161"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/29151"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29150"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29150"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29150"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}