Really?
Let’s face it. We are all Monk’s walking different paths and getting to the same place. The inevitable. And not to be morbid here, but death is our similarity.
We know just as much at death as we do at birth. It’s the filling in of that open space in between birth and death that seems to matter. Or does it?
We are all made up of atoms. Some of those atomic partials perplex scientists by appearing to jump in and out of existence. Perhaps the particles are bi-locating between time and space tempting us to stretch our imagination between the mundane and the limitless cosmos.
I’ve always been fascinated by the ripple effect that occurs when a pebble is dropped in water. Each molecule of water moves in a random motion. The molecules exhibit capricious, wanton movement. But to watch the water from above, it’s easy to notice a discernible wave pattern – measurable and even predictable, as it moves in an effortless undulating formation.
I’ve always thought of life this way: A series of seemingly random events that create a discernible, perhaps even significant wave formation called our life story. Perhaps taking the journey as a knowing Monk, embodying both the mundane and cosmos we arrive at our death with the same abandonment as birth.
