Coming back to basics
Again, again, and again
Until it becomes natural
Until it remembers being natural
Until it finds back its own place –
Nothing is more important.
When our being starts seeing itself as Being
Our Being quivers at the smell of unity oozing from such a practice.
Higher, further, deeper along the root.
From inside, the snow globe where everything is troubled,
To the hand shaking it,
To the eye of the child faking to believe it,
To the eye of the parents, remembering their childhood,
And gently suggesting to put the globe down and go for a walk outside.
Find the various levels, successive, simultaneous, or alternative –
And see the world.
This practice does not belong to anyone, nor is it the property of any culture or continent.
It grows in our inner land.
The gardener places his hand on the wheat seeds et moves along the ear. Then he lets his hand go under the earth, and changes his plane, rewinding time until he touches the germ.
When he holds it at the centre of him palm, he breathes for the very first time.
Fed with eternity
Bathed in space
Kneaded in meaning
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