This morning, as I sat on the cushion, window flung open, I was witness to the sounds of the world waking up, a chorus of birds mixed with lazy morning traffic.
A vast web of communication and relationships. The birds are so sure of themselves, and they sing from their hearts. It is hard not to smile. I sink deeper into it, and let the sounds wash over me.
The mind, flowing always, raises a relationship between the object and the subject. Between these birds, glorious in the sun, singing to the dawn, and me, sitting quietly, unseen, mute witness to the glorious scene. A flow of emotions, as the mind, always flowing, raises a relationship between the thought and the thinker — “poor me!” “lucky me!” “lucky birds!”
I feel this flow of thoughts and feelings just like my ears hear the flow of birdsong. My thoughts are so sure of themselves, and they sing from their hearts. It is impossible not to smile.
I sink deeper into it, let the flowing of mind wash over me. As I do I feel a deep gratitude, for these birds, this moment. It arises of its own accord, and bathes everything in a golden light, just as the sun does in these early hours.
Mind and birds fall away. Inside and outside fall away. Time falls away.
Who is there to smile at? Who is there to sing to? Who is listening?
There is nothing but gratitude. What else can there be?
