That is the blanket, which covers the world and gives the illusion of comfort. However, something that does not fulfill its intended purpose will eventually no longer serve.
Our society and collective mind is but being pushed under a sort of psychosis which suggests that everything is working as it’s intended. With the utmost certainty of its opposite we can conclude after just listening to our intuitive inner broadcast, that: nothing is alright.
We are not heading on that safe path which was laid down in front of us by evolution.
Or perhaps if we shift the tides and turn our perspective upside down, we calmly accept the fact that our race and planet is rumbling towards its destruction, and that is fine, simply because that is how it should be?
We yearn to accept that we have not made any mistake and this is the course of nature, the lullaby of life which slowly and eternally will rock us into a final slumber?
Is it truthfully acceptable to say that we have yet to ignore the changes in the world, as we are at any rate unable to act against it in any way? Is this forsooth rattling in our minds, that the practice of existing, waking up, eating, making our way into our comfortable office, complaining about the curtains and lights, then going home is the way we should live our lives?
A monk walks slowly in the crowded streets of Japan. Around him, there is nothing but chaos. Hurry. Haste. Frustration. Everyone looks, but no one sees. He guides his steps gently, the dust flies as the tip of his shoe touches the concrete. A subtle, almost non-visible movement. He holds a bell in his hands and rings it each time his feet touch the ground. The sounds of the bell are swallowed by the tornado of noises around him. He heard nothing. Only his own breath and the twinkling sound of the bell. People hush in front of his eyes, but he remains unnoticed and untouched. He is the point of refuge in the desperation of the world. The energies which are crying out for help, are hurrying to him. A great power lies in all his small and steady steps. He is on a journey. A steady and balanced odyssey. Still, he remains translucent. Misunderstood. People pass by. Time surpasses.
As the monk performs the mindful steps we tend to find a deep teaching in it. The key perhaps would be steadiness. Patience. A denial to accept the participation in the race of the fleeing world. A small step for man but a giant leap for mankind. – Shouldn’t the famous quote of Neil Armstrong be understood finally? We are running out of time.
We are not conquering our journey in small steps, as a toddler starts its quest by its nature, but we are devouring the world, and opening our mouths so wide that it rips by its corner.
We are bleeding. Our feet cannot keep up with the speed of this route. It’s a dreadful bolt-down. Our ears hear nothing but the thundering echoes of our gashing and rushing days while the whispers of our minds remain lost within this evil swirl.