I sit on a bench, by a path, next to a lake and just try to be.
Not easy - just being.
If you've ever tried it you'll know what I mean.

I stare at the lake, intensly, sitting forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped - my attention unwavering.

People cross my field of view, from the left and right they appear like micro-dramas to me - rapidly unfolding then  melting away unfinished.

I hear them as they slowly approach,  a quick splash of colour in my field of view,  and then they recede. All the while I force myself to watch the lake and wonder if this is just being.

The lake is deep and still. There are trees on the small islands, there is shade, there are birds, reflections of birds and small ripples. There is so much green. So many different shades of green? My shoulders are hunched, my back is hurting - why am I so tense? How can this be just being?

I sit back, relax a little, cross one long leg over the other, stretch and then try again. Just being is hard.

The lake is still still, still green and maybe just a tiny bit deeper than before.

In ten more minutes I'll give up. I havent got all day, I've got somewhere else to be.