I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy.
Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
Pleasant it to behold great encounters of warfare arrayed over the plains, with no part of yours in peril.
What our eyes behold may well be the text of life but one’s meditations on the text and the disclosures of these meditations are no less a part of the structure of reality.