<center>_So... here's how I did it._</center> 

<h3>First, I just imagined one simple thing to help focus my attention, and I focused as hard as I could.</h3> 

<h5>I imagined a small green light, endowed with all of the brightness that I could possibly give it at the moment.</h5>

The light seemed close in the dark, but it was still a little dim, so even closer I gazed, and even brighter I willed, and then we were two. 

<h3>_I breathed the light towards me._</h3>

We were both now spinning in, and me and the light together so near, we made ourselves a whirlpool, a _third_ thing, which I felt I just had to see, but brightening the greenness of the light demanded my focus, as it might drift away without my gaze, and without my mighty in-breath to vacuum it near, our spiraling dance might be ended. 
<center>![IMG_0356.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmPk3Fw3L3EFDfjY28YdnPLWsnnqFFruqjcDuZLmJjsQs5/IMG_0356.jpg)</center>

So that the light might become bigger, I shrank myself very quickly-- at nearly the speed of light-- following the in-breath towards the middle of it all, right along the median, that grassy green on the motorway of light where Fibonacci sprouts and feathering ravines are infinitely nourished by the blues of rain and the yellows of the sun.

Here is where the water went, and where potent seeds are sent. Now is when the traffic, both north and southbound, can be heard equally, and what a roar! Just how many bees are in those fractal trees, one might ask, but I must focus first, back to the light.

Focus! And when I do, a thousand more distractions wiggle into the light like little green newts, all clamoring for the spotlight, all adorning the view, all a joyous part of the light, maybe even being the very point of the blending of the blues with the warmth of the yellow; so that there can at least be a joyous green _newting_, if nothing else. 

The harder we spun, the _inner_ we went, and the more we radiated out, the more we saw in our wake, and willing to breath it all in, we sang ourselves the blues and the indigos, and we laced the whirlpool with a flash of crimson and gold. 

God! If you could call it that, but we were small now, and while in there, always just past the next bend, there was infinitely more. A deep patch of violets-- delicious with color-- sweeps along the perimeter forever, a memory of purple funneled back in for another whiff, while always the choruses of the _other_ end of the infinite-- the BIG stuff, sung into the depth of even bigger wells, spilling with chills and teeming with eddies, plush with moss and ancient fossils in mathematical labyrinths of stone. And even this was just the echo, only a reflection of what dance had caused the heat to boil the lavas and to send the steam to radiate again with such velocity as to stick to the walls of reality long enough to imply that things were solid and sure. But still, only an echo.

That's how I did it. Even the most marvelously complicated kaleidoscope of light and sound can be simplified into a single dance, and in that blur, there can at least be a joyous green newting, if nothing else.

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<center>_image above is mine, 2018_</center>
![IMG_4721.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmdi858CJ8WPn2Y4iQ6pEqbwdiEosp8xAtsPr982rTEkmR/IMG_4721.jpg)
<center><h5>_thanks for looking in!_</h5></center>
<center><h1>Click @therealpaul for more</h1></center>