Sunday, May 8, 2016

May 8, 2016 - Seventy Years

Was it worth it?  When man became separate from the animals, when he became “different,” was it worth losing his freedom?  As soon as he could talk and thereby transfer his thoughts and receive the thoughts of others, a bridge was crossed and then immediately burned.  There was no going back.  He had gained the knowledge of good and evil, of discrimination and judgment, and he had lost the peace of the animals.

Twenty years.

Forever after, a part of him would always long for the simplicity of the beginning, for the eternal garden, which could only be found upon his final resting place in the old Potter’s Field.  It was all gone, and he gave it up so easily, without even a thought.  He tossed aside the ability to just “be” for the domination of the world.  For power and control.  But he did not know it was his own soul that would be in chains.

Whole civilizations came and went and came again.  Massive structure were built and crumbled and built again.  Every comfort and ease that could be imagined was created and enjoyed and glutted upon.  Everywhere was the mark of man.  The animals--once cousins--were all but forgotten except for how they could serve the ever-growing needs of man.  Their precious freedom, maintained to this day, was misunderstood and then forgotten altogether.

And for how many years?  Man has perhaps 60 to 100, usually 70-something.  Seventy odd years of survival, so much more than most animals.  Seventy years!  Such a long time!  Yes, 70 years with the continual voice of man’s command echoing in his own ears.  Seventy years of separation from the Source.  Seventy years of obeying and working.  Seventy years of guilt and working.  Seventy years of pride and working.  Seventy years of fear and working.  Seventy years of working and working.

As opposed to . . . one, five, 10, perhaps 15 years?  How many years of freedom?  Of running in the forest?  Of flying in the heavens?  Of swimming in the ocean?  Of living as opposed to survival?  Did you say one year?  Or two?  Or ten?  Or is it even just a few days of blessed freedom to simply be?  Is it so little?  Or can even a few days be an eternity?

Was it worth it?  Most would say yes if they understood at all.  Me?  I’m not so sure about that.  The gulls on the shore tell me a different story, and I am inclined to believe them.  They scream their odd song of freedom for 20-something years.  The pursuit for a bridge back continues here in Maine.

No comments:

Post a Comment