We climb high to the snowiest peak, to reach the limits of what we seek. We search down below through the sea, down and down through the mystery. But we can’t live upon the snow, just as the water won’t let us grow. We are in the middle and will always be, on land, in sand, returning neutrally. Our minds they grasp for something higher. To the heavens we aspire. But we all fall from the mountain. We all rise up from the sea. Highs and lows never stick so easily. The excitement of happiness fades to a lull. The stings of grief eventually dull. We grasp and grasp for anything more, the hole is grows, our lives a chore. We think the answers are something to be found, something above or below, a treasure deep underground. Or perhaps in the stars, it waits for us. Waits to fix all who are lost. We grasp at those feelings, hope they stay, and we are left all alone when they go away. Be okay with here, be okay with now, because we will always be set back on the ground. Grasp at nothing, and accept it all. This perfect existence has never left us at all.
We cannot stay with the birds in flight, we cannot stay with the fish at night. Let us return to the animal that we are. Let us return to pure love and light.