What if the rattlesnake sang like the mockingbird? It has taken me all this time, all these years, to understand that the beauty is everywhere. The filters in my brain allow me to hear Little Richard sing when the radio plays in spite of the fact that the din of daily life has the potential to overpower even the Georgia Peach.
Now, suddenly, I am taken with the idea that the landscape is visually layer upon layer of physical beauty. If I choose to dismiss the visual filters between my eyes and my brain, they're all right there. Suddenly the story of Ray Charles and Helen Keller make sense to me in a way that they never have.
Maybe turning off these filters is what Huxley and Leary and Alpert were going on about. Could be what makes the gurus giggle. Should make love a little easier. Wham!
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