The problem has remained the same, and we are almost near the center of halcyon. Through time immemorial, man-kind has but looked outward for answers and solutions to its intricate concerns.
We needed to move and hence we developed the wheel, we needed to eat and settle so we developed cultivation of the earth. We needed to feel good and hence we developed gun powder. We needed to annihilate ourselves and then we developed the needle.
Though the answers/solutions seem to be attractive and have continued to hold our interest and valuable attention, there seems to be no in-depth satisfaction. No epiphany that these items and goods for our delight have really provided.
We remain the same misled broken version of ourselves, one day at a time till the dutiful hour arrives where death with its clammy cold hands touches our left shoulder and we pass unto ether and leave behind indeed our life’s work – a little amount of dust.
There is corruption of the soul preceding us indeed. What else could be the explanation of this extreme state of things, where man fights another man – overcome with ferocity stemming from emotional irrationality; where there is enough food in warehouses to feed the world and yet amusement lies in watching starving children die in front of the camera; where there is safety propagated through the tip of a fission device. This is clearly absurd. Working to get a life and then falling ill and spending your money to recuperate and never breathing feeding in the fresh air…
Maybe the answer lies deeper and closer to us than we care to acknowledge. Yes the farm is within us and the land is fertile when we are born. It need not be tilled much and can quickly help you reap what you have sown.
Truly as you age (in the mind), and your views become so unmatched and firm and distasteful; the soil lacks nourishment and it will wither away. There will be famine in the heart and you will suffer starving away from love. You will hope for rain to come, and yet you will do nothing as everything you have ever been taught or have known stems from the external world and the supposed content-ness it brings.
You know this is wrong, there is no truth in this. The heart is beating volumes waiting for the child to come and till his own life’s work away. This is the purpose of life and its eventual decay. As the body and mind disintegrate – truly it is the land inwards which comes alive with fragrances of flowers untold and unheard.
There is joy in this decay – as if we are building our own burial grounds for our last day (as us). And when complete – we sit and rejoice; look at the farm we may have so created with sincerity through our lives, call our loved ones which we have met in the road – this precious journey so ever bound to repeat itself.
Why not revel in this inner joy, to make something precious for ourselves. To love oneself like others and love none like everything else. This is sheer joy.
When the field is ready, it blooms and the beautiful scent can be alluring to all those who have spent their lives in vain entanglements for external satisfaction. They flock like sheep to the nascent state of the heart – fulfilling the condition needed to exist for the soul.
Farming is not such a bad deal, you can do as you wish and with care – the outcome will be nourishing and indeed eternally rewarding.
Peace and Joy