Find a place to sit on the ground.
It doesn't need to be wilderness.
A patch of grass,
A garden bed,
The edge of a trail.
Sit as close to the earth as you comfortably can.
Take a moment to settle your weight,
Feel the ground receiving you.
Take one slow breath in and release it.
Let your shoulders drop.
Now,
Without moving far,
Let your gaze drop down to the ground directly in front of you,
The area within arm's reach.
This is your world for the next few minutes.
Just look,
Not to identify or analyze,
Simply to see.
What colors are here?
What textures?
How does the light fall across this surface?
Lean a little closer.
What is here that you didn't notice at first glance?
Look for the living,
A blade of grass,
A small plant pushing up through the soil,
Perhaps an insect moving through it all,
Navigating a world that,
At its scale,
Is as complex and various as a forest.
If there is soil visible,
Look at it for a moment.
What you are looking at is not dirt.
It is a living community,
Fungi threading through in networks miles long,
Bacteria cycling nutrients,
The decomposed remains of years of fallen leaves and broken stems,
Being transformed continuously into the substance of new life.
This is the Earth's metabolism.
It is happening right here,
Right now,
Under your hand while you breathe.
If there is a small plant in your circle,
Look at it as if for the first time.
It has been doing what plants do,
Converting light into sugar,
Pulling water up from the roots,
Releasing oxygen into the air you are breathing now.
It has been doing this quietly,
Without effort,
Following the Tao of plant nature.
This is what the tradition calls tsara,
Self-sowness,
The natural unfolding of what a thing essentially is.
Now let your awareness soften from focused looking into something wider,
More like receiving than searching.
Let the square meter in front of you simply be.
Let the sounds around you enter,
Whatever they are,
Near and far.
The movement of air,
The small sounds underfoot.
The Tao Te Ching says,
Without leaving my house,
I know the whole universe.
This was not a boast.
It was a description of what happens when looking becomes deep enough that the separation between the looker and the looked at begins to dissolve.
You don't need to dissolve anything.
Simply notice.
You and the ground you are sitting on are made of the same stuff.
The boundary between your body and the earth is,
In one sense,
Real.
In another sense,
It is permeable.
You are exchanging molecules with the air around you with every breath.
The water in your cells fell as rain not long ago.
You belong here,
Not metaphorically,
Materially,
Actually.
Whenever you are ready,
Take one slow breath.
Let your eyes soften and lift.
Carry the quality of this attention,
This close,
Unhurried looking,
With you as you stand and move back into your day.