A Patch of Cerulean Blue.
A saint once left his home to travel to a nearby city. When he returned he said to his disciples, “This place…you can’t imagine. Streets paved in gold and the skies lighter than a hummingbird’s wings.” His disciples, eager to know this glory, raced to understand. When they returned they muttered with disgust, “Ugh – the filth, the dust, the waning light.”
To each, the same – though, vastly different. Perception can create bouquets from wilted flowers, likewise – it can shift the weight of the world onto our heels. Everything, in fact, is exactly as it seems – and this life, precisely what we believe. The stars shine no brighter from the opposite ends of opposite ends of this earth.
No matter how well we live our life, there is always a ‘calibration’ which occurs – an adjustment of mind to suit the ‘reality’, a chiming of perception within the winds.
But are we missing the oft sought rustling of leaves, against a cerulean blue? Welcoming each day as an awakening, and every breath – a miracle.
You are just one thing, my loves – but you are everything, just the same.