Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Watching the hummingbird dip around the flowers of my backyard, the mystery of its flight, the mystery of the nectar of the flowers, the mystery of the moment leaves me in wonder. Boredom must mean one has lost curiosity because the seemingly simplest things of this world are so remarkably complex and fascinating when you really allow yourself to get curious about them. Just a little bird flying about the yard. And also a layered interplay of the forms of being--from the millions of micro organisms inside the bird to the macro view of this spot of my yard on Google earth. So I return to watch my breath for another moment. I feel the rise and fall of the abdomen as the strong diaphragm muscle expands and retracts. The same mystery resides in my attention to the breath. How does the mental chatter quiet as the breath occupies the focus of attention? How do the objects about me disappear within the inhale and exhale? How is it that even time changes from compartments of minutes into a fluid experience with no discernible beginning or endings? Even these questions fly away on the beating wings of the hummingbird. Silence remains.