Picking flowers

File:LA Cathedral Mausoleum Jesus and the children detail2.jpg

This is as nice a description of moment-to-moment awareness that I have read in a while, from a non “meditation” source:

There’s actually no such thing as an adult. We never grow up. We’re not supposed to. We’re born and that’s it. We get bigger. We live through great storms. We get soaked to the bone. We realize we’re waterproof. We strive for calm. We discover what makes us feel good. We do those things over and over. We learn what doesn’t feel good. We avoid those things at all cost. Sometimes we come together: huge groups in agreement. Sometimes we clap and dance. Sometimes we look like a migration of birds. We need to remind ourselves — each other — that we’re mere breaths. Like every time you see the low, full moon. We keep on eating: chewing, pretending we know what’s going on. The secret is that we don’t. We don’t, and don’t, and don’t. Each day we’re infants: plucking flower petals, full of wonder.

Micah Ling, Bon Iver: Holocene

One thought on “Picking flowers

  1. Had to smile when I read this after posting a list of things on my blog that fascinate me a few days ago. Picking flowers wasn’t one of them, but leaves certainly are. It could easily have been a list a child wrote. How interesting…

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