We all live in a world where we see nothing but... texts of different difficulty levels. We only interact with texts, that's how we work. That's why we're human. We do not know how to simply contemplate, just live in the moment "here and now", as do animals, babies, yogis.

No event of reality simply does not exist for us until we are sure that it can be retold, redrawn, reposted, that is, turned into a dead, static and very subjective Text for the public.

We won't be able to enjoy a yellow autumn tree just by staring at it for an hour, two or three — until we get out a camera or phone and take a picture of what we see, turning a piece of Reality into Text.

We will not be able to enjoy yesterday's exciting event if we have no one to tell it in detail over the phone to our friends the next day. That is, to turn our living experience, which we should not share with anyone (if we have a mind!) into a public Text.

WHEN DOES MATURE LOVE COME?

Not every partner we meet is suitable for the role that we assign to him in our play. It's like figure skating here: she puts on a dance with him, and he does not reach the level of her technique and artistic design. I lost a year! Next!

And that's only when all the "our native" scenarios are more or less played, or when, in an attempt to play to the public, confusing life with the stage, all the forces are already lost... then begins the age of Mature Love.

This happens around the same time, we begin to admire the yellow autumn tree without trying to take a picture of it and post it on a social network. Around the same time, we enjoy a small piece of personal happiness, without the desire to tell everything in detail to a friend in a phone conversation the next day.

We finally gain the ability to simply contemplate, to simply live in the moment "here and now", as animals, babies, yogis do. And mature people. After all, only a mature person understands: the Partner is important, not the Dance. After all, the dance that makes young people start dancing always sounds. And people are so fragile... like this autumn tree. You need to have time to love-here and now.

No audience and no scenery.