The lens turned inward is frozen; that turned outwards, blossoms
When the lens of creating is turned inward (“How will I look as I make this art? What will it do for my image?”), I am as frozen as a stone.
But when I put the lens outward, to help—even one person, it does not matter, make something a little bit better (“What would I want to hear now? What seems to be needed in this work, to make things a little bit clearer?”), I blossom, come alive.
And the shimmering, glorious feeling of Self does not fade or hide, in fact he shines (that one that was hoped for): just as trying to be happy can make you miserable, but enjoying the moment will bring you such joy.