I am but a babe in the womb. I do not know that I am supposed to have more than I have right now. I do not know that I am supposed to have more space to move. I do not know that I should be demanding more than I need from this place where “I am”.
I have not yet learned that there is so much more than the creation going on around me. No one has taught me yet that I should fear what is happening, or what may happen, or what may not happen. I have not been instructed yet in the fine art of wanting more, of desiring something other than what I have now, or even of looking into the future for a quest I may never see.
At some point my fingers and toes are webbed. I don’t even care, I just accept. I do not know that they are supposed to be different in order to be “normal”. In fact, I don’t even know how to see “normal” beyond what is right now. My eyes are fused shut. Yet, I see all that I need to see. What could possibly be better than what is?
I can hear noises around me. I react suddenly because they distort the silence of what is around me. I have learned to love the silence although I did not know that until I first heard the noise. Some in a much different universe will marvel at my reactions and do what they can to ensure I react over and over again. I don’t complain, I just am.
I don’t seek to harvest this space I am in. I have no need to harm others for my sustenance, it is being provided to me by my Creator. Wealth is idiocy to me, for what would I do with more than I have now? I do not destroy this womb in the search of wealth or more. I need not pollute my body with ways of feeling better than I do now since that would be impossible.
My time here is short, but I have no concept of time. I just exist in this moment and accept all that is provided for me. I have no memories of where I was before I came to this place, and I don’t mind that convenience. Not knowing where I have been nor caring where I am going allows me to enjoy where I am in joy. I grow, and allow what has Created me to work through me.
I am perfect. Then one day I am born and meet the world. I forget my perfection and seek my imperfection. My parents show me all of their imperfections in order to continue the cycle of being imperfect so that I can exist in this imperfect world. I resist it all, strive for more and more, and question the very nature of my existence. I graduate into being “human”, suffering mightily in the education and longing for that which I will never get. Yet, somehow, I believe I am better and smarter than the babe in the womb although I am not sure how. What now appears to suggest that I know so much more seems to prove that I know so much less. With each act of war, with each selfish act of acquiring more than I need, with each passing moment in which I count the seconds of my life waiting for the next instead of living for the now I prove how much less I know.
For some, the journey will be and end in such condition. For others, they will be born anew into the understanding of experience. They will look at their aging fingers with joy. They will appreciate their space without attachment. They will see the billions of points of light coming from within the darkness we call “sky”. They will live simply in order to allow the planet to be without harm. They are the meek, and they shall inherit the earth.
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