The temptation to evaluate, it appears, extends to everything and everyone. Nothing is exempt from it.
Yet we insist, don't we, in saying that some things are more equal than others?
Within this context, there is always a certain goodness; the value comes from the sense of Being, and the lack of value comes from not having it.
I pass a mass white roses near the creek; their fragrance fills the air, and at the same time — in that very instant — I realize that my father is dead.
Each of these conditions provokes a response, but neither one of them is actually bad, even though one response is sorrowful and the other one is joyful. They coexist instantly and simultaneously; just as this moment where I climb up the rocks on the hill does.
I think; and then there are these emotional, sensory, and physical experiences, all valued through the sense of Being. They are all excellent, in a certain sense. They surpass the good and the bad and move into Being, which is a form of food that is eaten; not good or bad, but necessary.
I don't need to rate it; just experience it.