Anima Mundi: A Summer Day

Delusions Odd People Experience.

So here I am, nothing better to do than to look at the wind run through the trees. The sun shines on the leaves and their shade keeps me cool. The grown grass is a soft cushion - a comforting layer on which I rest. This green covers a reasonable distance and hugs the Earth into the horizon. This green dances too. The whistling winds gently maintain the cool and the sun keeps its underlings sufficiently warm. The sun is bright today. The skies are a light shade of blue and the sailing white clouds which scarcely appear in the sea swim away slowly. They ebb and flow almost with the wind as the dark birds occasionally dash along overhead. They make a sound, not a noise, but a sound - the sound of moving through air as they soar... They do not sing like the small birds on the branches of trees that I also see. The colorful birds that sing were born of the sun. They chirp and chatter, fight then fly away - but throughout their interactions, they are beautiful. They are grace personified, whether they speak in their sweet sounds, or gently caress the air with their small wings, they are graceful - they are tiny rays of sunshine which add color to the world. These birds of the trees are beautiful, unlike the birds of the sky - those are efficient. They don't make beautiful sounds or don pleasant colors or even fly graciously, but they get where they need to go. They soar high above. I don't know where the season leads them, but they do. They follow their instinct, and will surely soon reach their destination. They fly with determination - a certain purpose that one can sense from many feet lower. They glide the winds and ride the clouds with a fierce sense of reason as to why they are doing so, even though they are just birds. They say birds don't reason, but then why else would the birds fly? They may say it's the work of nature, but what is so unnatural about me sitting here, soaking in the ambiance of nature, wondering what it must feel like to be within the bodies of one of these birds? I am thinking too, so are we humans not beings of nature? Is thinking really unnatural?
I don't know what it feels like to fly, or even to fall in control. I wonder how it feels to let oneself freefall through the air to a green demise, only to change one's mind at the very face of it and fly back up. I wonder why the dull birds do that sometimes. They just come down as if to say life beyond the reach of the helms of trees may not be as appealing as it seems. Maybe the skies are a disguise for the sea - and one sinks deeper and deeper the higher one goes. Maybe they come back down for some air, as breathing amidst the sea isn't easy. Maybe they evade the eagles and hawks whom they sense in the distance, also scanning the highs for a quick meal - no one wants to be consumed.
I wonder why the pretty birds don't fly as high as the dull ones. Maybe they reason that they will be easy pickings for the ruthless eagles - its a big sea, too big for such small fishes. Maybe they reason that being where they are is the best thing for them... They can talk to each other here... They can sing here... They have a purpose here. They seem to know that they are the lead vocalists on the soundtrack of nature - you can just tell by their confidence - so how can we say that even if they act through purely nature, that they don't reason? How can we think that they don't think? I think everything thinks - in a way, Everything is a single thinking entity.
The Wind made the conscious decision to breeze by today. The Wind must have seen the Sun come out this morning and knew that it had to keep us cool. The Wind knew that it had to keep the trees cool and make the grass lean from side-to-side, along with the trees, as if they were dancing to the sweet tune of the pretty birds. The Sun knew that it had to come out and add color to the world, and make the pretty birds visible to my lonely eyes. The Sun must have spoken to the Clouds and asked them to subside so it can dance with the sky. The Clouds obliged, and included themselves sparingly, as they donned a heavenly white. How, then, can we say that nature has no reason, no thought whatsoever? How can we say that thought is not natural? I thought of all these things, all the grandeur of nature before my eyes forced closed and I reasoned that it must reason, on its own, to its own ends. Anima mundi.
The world is living - but maybe one day the world will die. Maybe one day the clouds will not be privy to the Sun's requests and block the skies, in fact blacken them, as the thunder will start to supersede the sound of the pretty birds. The lightning will strike down all within the skies. The dulls birds won't fly anymore. The vast expanses will turn invisible and the trees will face a fall of their leaves, leaving them exposed. This will be when the Day does not come and Night reigns forever... Even then, Night would have used many days to think of how to conquer Day with the help of Winter. Alas, that time is yet to come - let us focus on the beauty of the now, the beauty that reigns today and perhaps accept that Nature thinks... maybe too much, like we do.

She'll forget about it all tomorrow.

Author's Note

Don't Feed the Trolls.

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[Cashmere Thoughts]

The power of now...this is a flawless display of the eloquence of a creative being.... Be in touch with your souls nature