Updated: Dec 4, 2019
Today, I sit on my spacious deck in beautiful San Gerardo, Costa Rica, and I write. I write about the wonderful butterflies that sometimes seem to surround the place, making me feel like I’m living in a giant butterfly dome. Watching them dance with each other, it occurs to me how language shapes my reality. They are dancing magically….or they are performing a mating ritual designed to reward the more aggressive male. One set of words serves to mask the magic of the world, another set of words acknowledges it. Either way the magic remains, the only difference being whether or not I get to experience it.
So many times I’ve come out on this deck to get a glimpse of nature and suddenly disappear for 15 or 20 minutes. I waken to a sense of calm and joy, and I wonder where I went and what I did during that mysterious period of time. Was I communing with nature? Did I enter other realms and check in with my higher self? Whatever the case, it’s powerfully refreshing…
My experience of nature is a reminder that I am part of the one. That insect annoying me is, in reality, one aspect annoying another aspect of myself. When one man kills another, he really kills an aspect of himself. Perhaps we get to experience both sides of that interaction, from one lifetime to another. This, to me, is a better way of understanding Karma – not some whitewashed version of the same old judgmental “you will be punished eventually” bullshit. Just the natural outcome of who and what we are, the balance inherent in the system.
We are one, and when we hurt each other, we hurt ourselves. Anything else is akin to your right hand telling you it is separate from your left hand. It might make sense, momentarily, to your right hand to say that, but to you, yourself, the “whole” as it were, it’s just nonsense. Maybe your right hand and left hand can wage war against each other in the name of the supreme self?
It’s funny, the things I think about on this deck (when nature isn’t taking me for a joyride). I contemplate butterflies, then contemplate on the fact that I’m contemplating butterflies, then contemplate how amazing it is that I can contemplate on the fact of contemplation, and then decide that contemplate is too long a word to continue this train of thought…
What is difficult to “contemplate” is war, while looking out from this deck. It’s hard to imagine countries bombing cities full of families – men, women, and even children – in the same space as the roar of the Quebrada, swollen with the waters from recent rains. Such utter monstrosities aren’t really possible in the same world as this cloud-kissed jungle in the mountains. “Regime change,” world leaders calling each other names and threatening nuclear war, lies, spies and the cries of the innocent – not possible. Nobody would risk this beautiful world full of beautiful people for such nonsense.
I choose to acknowledge the magic that exists, and I’ll be here enjoying it when everyone else decides to come on in. Why not? The water’s perfect, it’s a beautiful day, and that other reality sucks anyway!