When Does Simplicity Become Complicated?
There will come a moment in all of our lives where to touch into a place of truly appreciating the absolute simplicity of being Human will arise. We all know the moment being spoken of, and yet it is the one least spoken about, it’s the one where we know we dont have much more time in this intricate, precious experience.
A place where we open more fully to be with the smell permeating from the Earth after rain has fallen from above.
Observing ways in which a Bee meanders from flower to flower, effortless and true.
Seeing a calm lake be caressed by a soft breeze that ripples the surface, patterns forming then dissolving. Having enough time gifted to witness the majesty of a deciduous tree letting go of all its leaves over seasons to welcome in fresh growth, reminding us to trust in processes.
Perhaps when we know there isn’t much opportunity left, naturally appreciation arises for simplicity.
Coming into our senses, always an invitation to arrive and remember.
Extending our hearing out from listening and often believing the thoughts and stories going on inside, to notice a bird chirping, nothing needing to be done or to be worked out, just noticing, listening. Bringing our hand to the Kettle as it slowly comes to boil, nothing needing to be done or to be worked out, just being with this. The wisdom of Water and Fire knows what to do, we are merely gifted an oppurtunity to be with the unfolding. Drawing the eyes inward, emptiness, there is nothing there, there is nothing else to do. Opening the eyelids, totality of life is simply existing, nothing needs to be contributed. Being with sensations exactly as they are, absorbing into what is.
If it was known today was a last invitation to life, how would it be chosen?
Pendulums naturally swing,
simplicity is complicated and complication can also be simple.
Perhaps from reading this offers a spark to sit and have a bowl of Tea, seeing a reflection in our bowl.
Remembering it is a very short experience in the grand wheels turning of Time, and yet no moment we have, do we ever get back.
