Please stop trying to find anything more, at least, for this moment.
Through the open window
a soft, warm, wet breeze smells green of wood, moss, decay.
A cricket chirps.
A television in the distance.
Rain water drips from a sycamore leaf.
Thoughts, smells, sounds come and go.
No work or practice or technique is necessary
for this-now-here is-ing.
Nothing much, yet, everything.