There is something satisfying about lying on your back in a field and looking up at the sky. There is an equanimity in that. Clouds roll by, and you are still. You chew on a blade of grass, and you feel yourself immersed in the sky. You become part of the vastness of the sky. The same sky covers all, and you are covered by it. You are part of the clouds, and the clouds part for you, giving you room to rest within their folds. The sky opens up, and you enter it, all while you lie on your back on the grass and look up at it.

The sky does not pass you by, yet it keeps moving past you. You watch it, an endless slide show. You are an observer of the sky, and the sky absorbs you. You have swung up to it. Your heart floats there, an accompaniment of the sky, while you are still laden on the Earth. You are in two places at once. Even while you lie on the curve of Earth, you are not bound to it.

It is as if Mother Earth has no crust. As soft and billowing as the sky, the Earth is a pillow for you rest on. The Earth doesn't bounce you up to Heaven. It revolves and it becomes as if it is the sky you lie on and it is the Earth you see from a distance. Near and far become the same. You begin to fathom that you ARE, and you are One with the Universe. You are gloriously saturated in it.

At night the stars become yours. You favor them. The Moon pulls the tide of your heart. You are enraptured. You do not see what is beyond the stars, but you know something is there. It has spoken to you through the night sky, and you have heard it. It does not penetrate you as does the Sun by day, yet it lifts you high. You are in a sort of Paradise which you embrace.

When you get up and stand erect, then you do not see the arbor of the sky so much. You may forget to look up at it, so busy are you with what your feet trample over. So busy with important matters, you minimize the astral splendor, saving it for later instead of savoring it now. You look at the pavement, and it is almost as if surrender to the beauty of Vastness does not exist. You are enveloped in rubber bands and paper clips. You pace and strive when you could be still and embracing the Universe. You distance yourself from the Vastness except for an occasional glimpse in passing. You pass the sky by as if Eternity were nothing at all. You rush past it, scurrying off somewhere. Lacking patience, you forget to enjoy the sky and the blade of grass.

The sky and its arboreal regions wait for you. They accompany you nevertheless. The light of the sun and the stars reaches you just the same even when you close your eyes to it.

Even if you were face down on the Earth, the stars and beyond still exist. They don't need your looking at them. You need your looking at them.

I am speaking literally as well as figuratively. You are drinking in an ambrosia when you look up at the Heavens. It is a great tonic. Absorb it through your eyes, and absorb it through your pores. Drink in the day or night sky, and hold it to your heart. You are reciprocal with Nature. Let it bless you. Look up every once in a while.