For millennia the moon has slowly waxed and waned, shifting through phases from thin crescent to full orb, as it rises and sets over the vast Ganges Plain. In that simple sweeping motion Shiva's divine cosmic dance of creation and destruction is performed, as countless stars and planets slowly arc and wobble in an ancient spiralling pattern of precession, across the night sky. Such a breathtaking sight of the expanding universe touches the heart and illuminates the spirit, thus enlightening the mind, while hopefully transforming the way we view existence. In such terms each of us is nothing, spanning no time and going nowhere, regardless of our delusions of influence or achievements.

Indeed, eons pass as Himalayan sourced rivers shift in their courses, altering the dominating landscape, and notable kingdoms arise briefly holding sway, some sagely reigned and others foolishly, as excessive battles are waged. However, even the most powerful empire eventually crumbles into ruin, the scammers and schemers, along with the heroes and sages leaving behind nothing but forgotten bones. Thus, it all becomes nothing but legend and myth passed down throughout the ages.

Nonetheless over the centuries, in the absence of civilization, nature creeps in invading with bodhi tree seedlings, prying apart man-made structures, as beasts of the jungle take over abandoned temples and palaces. But then, like weeds of resistance, tribal groups may occasionally spring up, surviving by simply living off the land. Thus, mother nature majestically reigns, until pushed back once again by civilizations' encroachment. Such ages come and go, in constant flux, like that of a gentle tidal surge.

But everything comes full circle, and what was thought lost and forgotten shall be found once more. Witness the scattered foundations of ancient red-brick monasteries, extracted from the once thick jungle, now that only pocket patches of woodlands remain. So, once again, as in previous millennia, holy men in ragged robes with their begging bowls, and travelling merchants carrying fancy wears on shoulder yokes, wander throughout the hot dusty land. See also the peasants tirelessly working the fertile soil, to feed the ravenous multitudes, and women carrying water from the banks of the winding rivers, along with swaddled infants. They are seedlings of hope for a better future, let them break-down the walls of social ignorance, and political strife, let them take root on a more progressive ground.

We may have evolved by leaps and bounds, from a primitive state, but have a long way still to mature on conceptual and transcendental level. Until we do, we will continue to look at lives we might think as less than our own and treat them unfairly or with indifference. Here and now, we are in a unique position where we can choose to be cruel and destructive, by using anger and hate to inflict pain on others, or do wise and noble acts.

So, why is it that we choose to neglect our micro connection to the macro cosmic whole, and the intricate part we each have on the overall universal stage? For the truth is that we are all one and the same a part of the cosmos, small as we are within it, as everything is connected and interacting to various degrees. Indeed, the very stars around us have produced the carbon dust that we and everything else are composed of, thus the milky way is a bioluminescence in a fathomless galactic ocean.

Some have strived towards a better existence for all beings, and others still reach for that goal, listening to the wind of their soul blowing wherever it might guide them. Yet, though many temples and shrines may be built in their names, to memorialize their pious efforts, and their followers significant, such structures, grand and memorable as they might be, are not as impressive as what nature in its full beauty inspires. Since, like any grand and powerful kingdom or empire, such man-made edifices eventually tarnished and decay. So, forget the weathered relics of a long dead past, since a living memorial of a sacred event serves, in this case perhaps, a far better purpose.

Now the stars have faded away as already a new day has arisen, veiled in the thick misty-fog as the warm breezes from the south meet the cooler mountain air. Sure enough, the birds begin to sing and oxen grunt in the nearby fields, dogs bark and chickens cluck in the surrounding communities. So, come walk in the cool morning air where stands a massive Bodhi tree, pleasantly decked with countless long strings of colourful Tibetan prayer flags radiating out like spokes of a vast wheel, leading into the depths of the mist, like a connection through a haze of confusion, as if this is the center of everything this moment, umbrella of the spirit/soul, the unfolding of the cosmos on a micro level.

This tree of life ever growing, its roots reaching deep into the nurturing soil to become much stronger, its trunk a pillar of its potency, and its mighty branches stretching out forming a protective canopy over all who shelter there. Season after season may the tree bear its fruit, seeding ideas and concepts which will take root in the minds of kind compassionate beings. Even if damaged, the tree can repair and rejuvenate, and from its seeds will grow new trees to spread out and form another forest. This lamination after all outshines the glitter of the surrounding materialism. It is the enlightenment, just as the sun illuminates the moon.











Toronto, 09/19/2020