Keep your eye on the ball. Know your direction. Understand the path. Evaluate the options. Weigh the alternatives. Think, focus, concentrate, center your attention. Or else… you will not make it. You will lose, no?
En-oh NO. The true master need not look at the ball. Need not focus or concentrate. Need not think. He knows where the ball is. He put it there. He can feel it. He is one with it. Why the attention? Why the effort? Effort is nothing but the loudspeaker-friendly version of admittance; the proclamation of insufficiency, weakness, and ignorance. No, absolutely no — only know where the ball is. Do not look. Do not peek. A true master never ever does. He feels. He knows.
But, our boy here is not a master. He is beyond that. You see, that cue does not point to a ball. His game is ball-less. He need not keep his eyes on the ball, because there is none. After all, what is the use? What in this existence is true or real? What use is reality, other than to be a convenient and comfortable container to the continuum that manifests the collective amusement of all consciousness.
Our boy is no master. He is beyond masterhood. He is the genius; the genius that reduces his point to the self-evidential by that frivolous smile. Is that smile not more than, in any tongue, a mere smile? Is it not the strongest of declarations that existence does not preside in this realm. It is, and he surely knoweth!
Do not keep your eye on the ball, boy. Or else… you will look the fool when you have none.
And yes, watch the parking meters.