Today I felt lethargic upon awaking; especially upon the fact that I had slept in, as usual. After morning preparations to nurture the body a little, I thought it best to get outside for a long belated journey through the small forest down the street.
Now that I am inside, I realize what a problem a house has. Stuffy recycled air, almost completely black conditions compared to the magnificent light outside, and stillness. I stepped into the silence … the air rich and full yet not still, but filling my lungs effortlessly, as if I had not needed realize the notion that I were breathing at all. The forest floor is still layered with a thick crust of snow. In one place, the ground had shown through -- and green foliage there. It's hard to imagine if it had been frozen there since the fall, or was still alive. The afternoon sun made all things so clear; my eyes seemed obsolete to think I could not focus on things 100 meters away. Perhaps when I were a child I could, but not without a pair of binoculars I purchased for 20 dollars. Unbelievable though that such a small price could bring things so close. I could only hear things scattering so silently amongst the trees, and had a hard time spotting them. Of the many things were chickadees, a bluejay, a bird I have yet to look up, and a woodpecker, ravens protecting their territory by attacking some sort of hawk -- all of these things within a short 45 mins! I even spotted a full hare by accident far off. How could he be so silent I wonder, when I can't even hold a spectacle without breaking the snow… but I seen his tracks and anothers all around where I had been just that afternoon.
I could stand there in silence forever if there were no other calling a human has. It seems the problem with us, is that we take all that we can home and keep it preserved for as long as possible. Even though I open my window everyday, and gaze out at the squirrels and the brighter half… I can't seem to find that peace, or health which can be attained my attending the forest floor. I find comfort that the body does not need preservation at the passing of the spirit, and that it can be delivered to the earth again. I hope that I don't have too much salt, sugar and everything else I cannot name to make it indigestible. If anyone I know were to caretake of my body after death, I'd request that it were without coffin or embalming… but placed in the ground like a seed before blooming into form, because isn't that the hope of death?
The point of this note though is not about passing, but about keeping. Is it possible to gain anything under the sun? If Solomon, in all his years had left that one precious piece of wisdom, why do we expect more everyday? I remember the capstone to his qualm was this; "Then I realized that it is good and proper for a man to eat and drink, and to find satisfaction in his toilsome labor under the sun during the few days of life God has given him—for this is his lot." (Ecc 5:18) Probably my favourite verse right now.
Even though I could mimic nature and bring it into the house, that will never be the same as enjoying the Earth's natural state. Isn't that life's paradox? This is but a dim distorted illusion of the infinite reality beyond, and we cannot see it anywhere here in its true spiritual form. Even though this is true, we can see through these cheap binoculars well enough to learn about what lies beyond!
Peace in, peace out.
