Author: Non-Stick Surface
When you realize that life eventually ends, every moment becomes a little more valuable. From the lofty perch of 47 years, I look back at all the moments already past and am amazed at the variety. It’s almost like looking back on many people, not just who I am today. So many moods, so many outlooks, so many different situations and motivations… I’ve been a lot of people in my life. And every moment counted, in some way, if for no other reason that it connected me to the moments that were memorable, both past and to come. Life, persisting. Proceeding. Progressing. Becoming. I can marvel now at how unconcerned I was with the multitude of moments I was enjoying without much thought of an end. Youth is burned brightly, the shadows kept at bay by sheer joy and not a little ignorance.
Here at 47, the moments ahead become almost sacred. They represent the real progression of my life… moments filled with recognition of the past, with appreciation of the present, and with longing for a future filled with health, love, and comfort. Yes I know the moments now and ahead are bound to the ultimately Mysterious – the ending of my physical being on this planet, in this dimension of time and space. Yet, who I am, who I want to be… somehow matter more now despite the apparent cessation. Yes, my body will end. Its lease with my immortal spirit will expire and I will face some reality afterward. Perhaps timeless, divine… a return to the Source. Perhaps a kind of birth into a new dimension that requires passage through this physical one. In any case, I perceive that who I am, my character, my soul – matters more than ever.
Everywhere you look, there is proof that life is a process of becoming. Becoming is the purpose of life. Death is part of life… there is no escaping it. Therefore death must involve becoming something more. Life does not flourish with such complexity only to wheeze and cease. Energy cannot be destroyed, only transferred. That which inhabits and animates the body is a form of energy. Science doesn’t recognize it yet… their instruments measure only known energy types. But one has only to observe and intuit to realize we are more than the physical vehicle. The “we” inside the vehicle is vibrational, existing as an exotic form within an equally exotic physical form. “We” make the “I” that we call ourselves. And it is this “I” that will graduate at the vehicle’s death, carrying with it the character, values, emotions, and memories learned in this period of physical manifestation.
So every moment… counts. Every moment sees us being. Being equals life. We are life, now. We have that gift, that supernatural and mysteriously complex formation of physical and spiritual existence that resonates in kind to that which surrounds us. We are synchronized with a universe comprised of energy… peeking out between the atoms with an other-dimensional awareness that very likely transcends time and space. What I’m learning now, at 47, is to appreciate the view from the moment.
A Bee’s Breath Away From Death
It’s a hot day in July and the sun is beating down on everything beneath it. Over a hundred degrees and the trees are sighing hot winds, dreaming of misty mornings. A bee has just left the confines of an orange trumpet blossom, stepping around a stray ant to achieve flight. Far below, the glimmer of water beckons.
Because of the heat, it knows the brood nest needs water droplets to fan to cool the queen. Called by duty, it drops towards the glittering blueness, looking for a place to land. It is cool near the surface and for a moment this pleasant feeling distracts it. The next moment a hot down gust of wind pushes it feet-first into the water – the worst feeling for a bee. The water has its grip on the tiny paddles of its feet.
It furiously works its wings, driving for lift to break the water’s grip. In its fervor, it tips to the side and its left wing dips into the water. From bad to worse. It begins working its six legs to try to free the wing, slipping and sliding as if on ice. There is no purchase, nothing for its feet to leverage against. It is frantic and keeps fighting despite the instinctual knowledge of doom that grows with each passing second. It senses the failure of duty and worse, the rapid weakening of its life force.
Until the thing. The thing under its feet. A solid bar rises to the surface and the bee has three, then four, then all six feet gripped to it. The glimmering surface recedes, hot air whooshes around the bee, and then the heat of the ground envelopes it. The water is draining from its microscopic hair, the sun is warming its wing and it can now flutter both wings freely. Relieved, it crawls on the bar, back and forth, assessing damage and finding none – only the remnant wetness of a fateful collision with water.
Through its two bulbous eyes made of thousands of lens, it sees a massive animal squat down and peer at it. At the periphery of its being, a sense of connection flutters past its collection of instincts but fails to process into experience. It almost knows that doom was avoided because of this animal but the linkage is too weak. Instead it focuses on drying its wings and feet, a far more productive use of its time.
With the animal now standing and watching, the bee finishes its recovery and launches into the air, its wings lifting satisfactorily. By accident or by some other cause, it flies right up to the top of the animal, hovers for a split second at the two orbs gazing back, and rises quickly into the sky, free to fly and be once more. With the three small eyes on top of its head, it orients itself to the sun and heads back towards the brood nest.
Feeding the Beast
The old man told his grandson, there are two wolves in each of us and they are always at war. One is good and represents kindness, bravery, and love. The other is evil and represents greed, hatred, and fear. The little boy asked him, “Which one wins?” The old man answered, “The one you feed.”
Our minds are sometimes unpredictable. What we think leads to emotion. Emotions feed the wolves in us. You must choose what you do with your thoughts. A thought can arrive and be dismissed, or it can be dove into, embraced, experienced. Yes, a thought manifests realities that we experience. We become more like our thoughts. So choose your thoughts carefully, wisely. and consistently.