Meditations on The Changing of a Non-living Object from One Form to Another.
Ousia and Ananda

usia.

A little child sits and examines a round gray pebble. She rubs a thumb over its smoothness. She examines the pockmarks, the scratches. She thinks about the color and how it changes against the sand, a leaf, the sky. She feels it warm in her palm. The child whispers secrets only a stone understands. She throws it in the water and watches the stone break the surface. The rings ripple out. She watches the stone change the water, the water change the waves, the waves change the sand.

"I AM," says the pebble to the child.

nanda

The mistress of a garden was blind. But every day she would breath its air, listen to its lizards and water, feel its earth beneath her feet and know its mood. The gardener worked with care and loving diligence so as not to cause a disturbance or uneasiness that the mistress could sense. Even his simplest act conveyed a spirit of harmony. For the gardener knew that the spirit in which one performs a task is as important as getting it done.

For does not Gaia spin the thread of the joy of existence; without which the weaving of the universe would collapse and fall apart?

Gaia Blesses Your Return