Coming home from a meeting in Pretoria with the advocate and the attorney on Monday, we were headed South on the N1 and passing a township on our left in the heat of the near-noon sun.
A little branch of a river ran through a meadow of long, lush grass between the houses and the motorway; Willow trees shaded the bank almost entirely, creating a dark green coolness by their welcome-invader status. Beneath the Willows, along the little river's banks, walked a man - head thrown back and peering into the branches above him as though thanking them for their shade, he carried a backpack by its straps slung over one shoulder. He looked like a man headed home from a shift at work - but who knows? I only know he blessed me once again with that sense of knowing why We come here, why We created here at all, and why We treasure the here so very, very much. Like biting into a huge, juicy apple, this sense of Love for the physical plane infuses me every so often, staving off any possible feelings of despair at finding mySelf here, now.
For although I rage at the wanton murder of the ecosphere, turn angry words upon the civilisation which seems to have no purpose but to kill and not replace, and rail endlessly at the psychopathy of many members of the human race; still and all I relish this Life in all its myriad expressions.
I know why it is We make and create all this , and inhabit it so often - although I cannot give that knowing sufficient words, I fear. For, being as I am an "I" outside of time, and space, I am already dead. I am also therefor the never-born. And never having been permanently born and being already dead...what is there to fear?
"The Self is never born, nor does It ever die;
never It came into existence nor will It cease to be -
It will not take rebirth, It is unborn, eternal and changeless;
It is timeless and is never killed when the body is killed"(The Bhagavad-Gita)