It is beautiful to see the plaything before me that could be called consciousness.
It is before me, not only because it is the focus of my attention, but because it is before ‘me’ ever arises. Where attention overlaps awareness, it infuses and expands to fill every corner looked at, even though it was always in those corners.
It can dance as a laugh or a longing, or can cry as love for the world. It can be a long and winding path leading to itself, or can be a mountain, tree or thought; what a beautiful plaything, a cherished friend.
I can play tag with it, chase it, try and grab it. Sometimes I catch it, but only because I have let myself go for a moment and all that is left is my friend, shining as me.
The plaything will never tire of tag. It will always run when you chase. And it will be enough when you stop.