Beauty (almost) Takes Me By Storm

I am in Beauty but

in its calm eye.

Around me what winds

writhe in ecstasy,

spin around, around,

expecting me to join

the dance of pure being,

but I, being found

squarely in its center,

remain out without

seeing any way to enter.

I am basking in the beauty of a mild Washington summer. It is everywhere around me and I am in it. And yet I am always observing it, always looking in on it from the outside (or from the inside), able to almost grasp it and hold it but never able somehow to grab on to it, enter into it, truly taste it for what it is. How does one go about truly being fully present in the moment? How does one cease being a camera and become a part of the scene?