This world is alive. I don’t just mean that it is full of an abundance of life. Surely it is. I mean that is a living and breathing organism, just as sure as you and I. It watches. It sees. It hears. It feels. It knows the secrets of each of us and follows our lives like the little miracles they are. This world is a companion, a guide, a teacher. A leader. It will show us the way, if we ask — and listen properly for the answer. Every move we make is a part of the world’s unfolding. We can add or detract. Serve or harm. We can be led or we can be arrogant. Sometimes we are each of these things in a single day. In an hour. It doesn’t amtter what our take is, what our story is. The world is here. It waits. It loves. It holds us, even as we strangle it. It’s the most unconditional love.
This flowed out of me into my journal this morning. I found myself drawing a very crude image of a mountain, seeing in my minds eye something with the glory of a Mt. Fuji or Mt. Rainier. There was this strong sense that this was true. I could feel in that moment a presence. The world itself was with me, almost sitting next to me on the couch.
To me, these words generate more questions than anything. I can imagine wrestling with the very notion of this. I don’t have trouble thinking of the world as an organic thing. It’s the conscious part that I wrestle with. Wrestle with is the wrong way to phrase it. It’s more like I feel I have an intellectual understanding of this, but seem to lack, in most moments, the visceral understanding — save a handful of moments like the one this morning.
But I think the questions might kind of be the point. Indeed, perhaps it’s questions our mind can’t answer that start to open our senses and the physical responses.