To the Ends of the Earth
Photo by Kevin Bessat
The human journey begins and ends in the illusive mists of time. We enter into form after ingesting the draught of forgetfulness. Our magnificence hidden in the blanket of fog that cleverly hides the glaring rays of Truth, just out of reach. We stumble through this trickery, sensing that something’s amiss, but never quite putting the pieces together.
Shuttered indoors most days, surrounded by the dense reminders of our limitations, we search among the clutter and the blank faces for an answer, a sign or symbol. Few offer much comfort or directions except to point us toward the mirror, where we get lost in the endless labyrinth of personal history.
There is a magnetic pull to step off the spinning merry go round into deep solitude, surround by nature, even better. This is where our greatest chance to remember lives. No more shiny objects—just a gentle coverlet of clouds snuggling with the uneven curvy mounds. Fractals of kaleidoscopic wonder ping then bounce as the sunlight mixes it up with the clouds.
A moment arrives delivering an invitation to listen, to be, to dance. Other moments join it in a tender thread of remembrance. All the clogged, mucked up thoughts dissolve in the ethers freeing up the body to sigh and breathe.
Nowhere or now here—must one travel to the ends of the earth to stand on eternal ground?
Nothing or no thing —must one peer into the void to uncover the illusion of things?
Nobody or no body—must one drop the attachment to form to truly rise?
You see, nature is a lover and a mystic. She lets us peak behind the veils into the mystery.
No soundtrack.
No special effects.
No villain or hero.
Just the frame of the moment, a still shot of the now, un-retouched with our longing and demands.
Thankfully, she doesn’t need your permission—only your presence.
A beginning and an ending so precious, so sublime.
Just this.
Just that.
At the edge of your searching there is nothing to find, because it is all You, after all.
All YOU.