Our human world flitters by, unable to generate enough force anymore. It’s a streaming show here, a book there, a podcast perhaps – then onto the next thing. That force for something true, passionate, with meaning and sense of self, has disappeared. There’s a lacuna, and spirituality won't take calls.
All that’s man-made is attrition and fiction, different stories vying for what can’t be explained.
But there’s something else: the unfurling of a rain-touched fern leaf, with a dash of sunlight dancing over it. Its colours; its quiet life; the breathing in and breathing out: a path to the full picture.
A natureza se movimenta, sem fazer força, pela beleza. Lindo texto. Abraço.