Like the scent of a rose that betrays the flower, Life’s universal stirrings reveal its all-pervading being. Its greatest mystery is its very existence, and the human mind has no means to know her bearing.
For man’s logic is based on Life’s expression, on its phenomenal presence, on cause and effect, on change, and rarely on Life’s essence.
Man’s logic — shaped by his own and Nature’s image, that of a ceaseless becoming, an ever-changing and vibrant playground of things called mind and matter.
But Life is not merely presence; in essence it knows no past and no future, no beginning nor end, that’s its hidden logic, and in vain we grasp, in vain we seek while remaining empty-handed and in awe.
The fragrance of Life is living, like wetness that of water, like light that of the stars, and heat that of movement.
What shows above also shows below, the sun is perfectly reflected in a tiny diamond, and mankind is as much Life as Life itself.
Concurrently active and passive, chronological and timeless, Life is a realm of opposing parts, but when only holding left, one loses right, and looking only up is missing down, letting essence out of sight.
To understand Life means seeing its essence in its presence, and its presence in its essence — unremittingly. It’s realizing that Life is universal, all-pervading, at once being and becoming, both creator and annihilator.
What mankind so fearfully calls death and dying, this dreaded return into nothingness, is Life’s brilliant alchemy, its incessant transformation, its endless moving and movements — for what not changes, is not alive.
As things perish to vanish into obscure oblivion, they seem to have dissolved into an unknown void, but only to be propelled into new forms, new movement, magically appearing as newborn expressions of Life. One’s death is someone else’s bread, and the forceful spring unveils the inner workings of the winter sleep.
Life knows no failures, but rather an unceasing flow of experiments. That what doesn’t serve Life is cast away soon enough, and that which does serve, is cast away equally — later — but inevitably still, for Life expresses only by change, by disappearance and appearance subsequently.
Multitude is Life’s mark and statement, and multitude thrives by contrasts, without which no motion exists, and without motion no presence at all.
But with regarding presence as essence, man’s sorrows start, a fleeting world is seen, and startling fear is born: fear of death, of everlasting extinction, and indeed — fear of Life.
Man grabs and holds, expands and conquers, guards and keeps, binds that which cannot be bound, with that hoping to master his fleeting presence, but forgetting the only real — his essence.
Ignorance breeds fear, and fear breeds desire shaping all man’s actions. Ending this threefold cord is man’s single remedy to end his torment, but that can come about only by recognizing the true nature of things.
Life as presence is Life in action, in flux, heading for perpetuity — survival is its creed. And yet, it’s not the fittest that survives, and not the smart or wicked, not the holy man, and not the bold, nor the so-called beautiful, but essence, not its presence.
Man’s essence is everlasting, his presence a transitory statement of his essence, and nothing really comes or ever goes, it’s only Life that ever shows. Presence is Life’s mirror, its own reflection as a trial for eternity, expression of impression, celebration of its truth, its fleeting dance on soundless music.
The world is the world as is. Yet there’s no end to man’s imagination, no end to his elaborate logic, his sophisticated thoughts imposed on the world perceived. It is man’s trouble, man-made delirium, his thirst for that which can never come about, that is, his longing for personal, everlasting continuity.
Life as essence is undivided, in-dividual, not personal at all. A myriad of entities appear and disappear endlessly, like a sequence of pictures shuffled swiftly, one after the other, assembling a motion picture giving the image of continuity.
There’s no goal higher than Life, nothing behind it, or to be reached. No things to be done, and no needs to fulfill.
All which sustains Life is good, and all which hinders it is bad. That is its single ethic, its highest morality. But ultimately, Life is what-is, this thing being, its presence is its essence.