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The creator doesn’t look at the creation in the same way as someone that appreciates it or uses it does.

They see and experience it with appreciation for what feelings it inspires or the practicality and comfort it implores.

image  The writer who tells a story of lust, disparity, hunger and gain, feels a sense of accomplishment for discovering in them self the ability to create the image of what they only felt. The same holds true for a artist that paints a canvass with color and meaning to provoke a feeling.

So what someone sees is not what the creator feels as the creator looks at the unseen to manifest the object someone appreciates or feels inspired by. As the artist feels it from the unseen to be what is seen so the object of creation is felt first and then seen. The viewer or user, though, of  creation sees it first,  and then is inspired to feel.

Definitions and the words we use to define them with will change over time as what we think of ourself and the world changes. Words like God, awareness and letting go to name name only a few change in definition to us as we do too.

So for today enlightenment means to me the ability to see past the hurt and the joy I think, to realize it is only a color used to paint a image on a canvass to see what the creator feels. A split screen view of the thoughts that think myself and life against the awareness that feels the creation before it is understood in thought. A crack in the glass that separates the two that you seem to see through when you look to it. It’s not really anything  “good” or something you own as you can’t really show anyone it and the best you can do at describing it is throw words at it that you hope land close because you know the word that has a meaning can never touch what isn’t known but is only felt.

So as others raise the glass to rejoice in the success they think they are or drink to not feel their gloom they do not want to own, you know neither are real as they are a thought in a illusion that doesn’t have a home. So when you raise the toast or sing the blues, you know neither are, what you are. They are just paint on a canvass for a thought that thinks it’s real.

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