The Magic breeze

The Magic breeze

We are the ephemeral magnetic field formed by the set of many, infinitely small, particles. Nothing reproducible, nothing determinable. We are born and die without the essence of who we are being part of all of this or that something I call "me" can ever be reproduced in the future or have ever existed in the past. A magic that cannot be reduced to its parts, a constantly changing flow and yet always itself. An experience in space-time, part of a One outside space-time. Mortal yet immortal, nothing that scientific religion can comprehend, but perhaps expressible by music and poetry and comprehensible through the meditative state. Could it be that the meaning of our existence can be the One who experiences himself through this gentle breeze that we call life?

*Photo by Emanuela Boriotti

m.m.