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I let the hens out this morning as I always do, but to sunshine and cloud slightly thickening, like milk being added to water as it slowly swirls in,
and if not noticed, never recognised as being, at all, anything for it would not even be illusion. To one's perception it would not be there, it would not exist, even though it is very real, and very real. It is.
And as usual Cooky wandered off. Oh! why is this hen called Cooky? Well, there are five hens we got from friends, and so I named them after great explorers, Livingston, Stanley, Armstrong, Shackleton, and of course, Cook, the Pacific captain. So that is where Cooky got her name. and it helps my own exploration, because in a way we are our own explorers, in the spiritual sense.
And these hens they make me become more aware of what's around, just here.
So! Cooky goes off to her secret place to lay an egg, so I go inside and prepare a cup of milky coffee, and jotted a few pages, on acceptance, observation, discernment and discrimination, insight, intuition. Then I went to check to see if Cooky had finished with the lay, and as I opened the door there she was with the others. And so I wandered up to collect Cooky's egg.

And there it was all on its own, in the corner of the shed in deepish wheat straw. Deep enough in fact to not be able to see the egg at first glance. No! it was not until I was almost right on top of the nest, that I saw the egg. And there it was, the most perfect egg, the most perfectly formed egg, and warm, like the sun, as inside, I know it is the same, from all of Cooky's care and attention, and mine to them, for to look after Cooky is to look after the egg. To protect with unconditional love, both,
the jewel and the crown. As in the end I say, I will do my best, and the rest, what will be, will be. You see, that is the definition of free range, to nurture well, and then in the end, to leave it all up to Nature, to Destiny's way, in acceptance of what life carries, and is God in Nature? Well going by Cooky's egg, I would have to say that the idea of God, it is everywhere, inside, in all things seen and unseen. And opinion and conjecture, well, that is to stay on the same rung, if life were a ladder.
As Cooky knows more; Cooky knows it all. As the greatest things, the seemingly insignificant goes begging to time's wastage. As I feel now that I am learning in passage of Cooky's egg as even when the sun is down, Cooky's egg, in this purest form I have ever seen. As there is always something so remarkable that can be gleaned from the moment that I happen to be in, light on mundane; as most would question: Hey its only an egg - forever to remain just a tiny fraction of only rational mind. As to see into what would normally be considered or passed off as mundane
And not worth a second glance or look even, for that is where life really begins,
The wonder of everything, regardless as to what has been before or conjured after,
For that is only in the mind as past and future. As in Cooky's egg, I see the illuminated present moment. I see, the sun, the moon, the earth, all in one.
In Cooky's egg I see everything, eclipsed.
So I do not need to go anywhere, as from right here
I see all the tides of all the oceans, all that has ever been
And all that is to come
I see all the Earths revolutions, in all of my own.
In Cooky's egg I see the light, as it is, as if it were, life just begun
to see the first flicker; and then, to leap into the unknown
The solar system, galaxy after galaxy, all in one
Cooky's egg, the journey
into the vastness,
of all knowing. Unknown. Beyond unconscious.


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