A thread of truth

Awoke from the depths of a somewhat dangerous dream to watch the sun-rise today. It's like spring time, in between seasons, alive with the fluttering of wings and tweets of sun birds and sparrows. In these twilight minutes, just before the shape of heat takes on its over-powering form, the breezes are kind and gentle, the dark clouds moving rapidly away revealing a tinge of red behind  big bright chirpy clouds.

"Yesterday is History, Tomorrow a Mystery, 

Today is a Gift, That's why it's called the Present"

~Master Oogway

There is a thread that ties everything together. Watching the pedestrians commuting, anonymous and interchangeable in every way, a  boy would become the older man walking ahead of him; an elderly woman waiting to board the bus was the young lady behind her. The thread is so visible for a second, interweaving reality with a supernatural bond, and yet we hold on so tightly to our own ignorance, trying to break the thread in every way imaginable.

Of a story about the Australian Aborigines told by a guide on a recent trip, when  they have reaped the nourishment from a certain plant, they put up a sign to let others know that the plant has been harvested and will need time to re-grow. The thread is as evident as it is natural. They depended on the land, and thus they respected and cared for it. With all the technology of the modern world, we have not only failed to recognize this thread but worse, alienate ourselves from it.

The shape of heat follows the thread of our actions, "The universe is such a balanced instrument that any act immediately sets corrective forces into action," global warming, oil spills, depleting forests, greed, technology for the sake of consumption proclaimed as the state of advancement. Can't help but feel that we're all living in a lie.

In the valley of the Blue Mountains, the air is fresh, moist, lush and fragrant. There's a tingling of the senses; it makes you feel connected to the land. Not sure how things will balance out in the future. We're beginning to see how fragile our environment is.  Our past informs our future; our present is a gift to the truth. How do we even begin to see, feel, live in a new way?

I think we have lived life many times over and died as many times in a single lifetime. I woke up from the night to the excited fluttering of wing-beats and tweets; the sparrows and sun birds are happy today. I realized I have died in my sleep so that I can live again today.

Green Peace
catmaSutra cat art

;)