Who Holds The Paintbrush?

Who holds the paintbrush?

To watch the sun find its way into every crack and crevice of the morning run was a reminder of who or what holds the paint brush.  How to open more? Surrender more? Become less of my own obscuration? To know my true nature more deeply? To know that somehow the separation is the biggest illusion. To walk in the grandeur of mountains, forts, resonance of life stirring, smells of the earth, and to open to more.  The homework is to lessen the separation from knowing our self?  Grace are the moments of insight. Insanity is knowing that you don't know who you are? Where to turn?  Who to ask?  Gurudev would say to go inward. How to go more inward? Meditation becomes a doing of sorts.  Being becomes the stillness in living? Being takes me to a point of inoperative intoxication. Doing takes me to a point of awareness, knowledge, observation, and separation.  The edges of the two come closer, but it is an interesting dance. Letting go, because I do not hold the ultimate paint brush.