A wonderful May morning. The whole house, the terrace and the garden are illuminated by the sun. What is important in this life? I sit and watch the play of colors outside and the dance of the leaves in the wind. The coffee is almost cold. I completely forgot about it. I actually forgot where and who I am. Only the colors around me, and the sounds, cacophony of the voices of different birds.
A pigeon is taking bath in our bird bath. It is half-lying, half-sitting with the eyes closed, as in the meditative state, the body is completely relaxed. What is important in this life? The whisper of the grasses. And a whole swarm of geese over my head.
Slight migraine symptoms. I close my eyes. They can’t take too much light. I need sunglasses. Maybe even reading glasses, as I’ve been seeing a little worse in the past few months. The body is aging. I watch it in the mirror and sometimes when just sitting, doing nothing. The body changes slowly, gets older in a fan-inspiring, miraculous way. Whose body is that actually? What is it that I actually see? The body of life. A marvel of nature. A mixture of explosive substances. A pulsating, intelligent something. Strong, flexible, capable in so many ways, and at the same time so weak, so vulnerable. I feel the vibrations of the body. I listen to its mysterious language.
Then I get up to pour myself a fresh coffee. And observe the arm movements. The loving meeting between the fingers and the mug. Caresses of the structure of the porcelain. What is important in this life?
My husband has just come back home. I see his car coming. He just drove to work 40 minutes ago, but once again forgot, that his shift starts at 4 p.m. and not at 7 a.m. Yes, indeed, these things are playing an ever smaller role the more time goes. It becomes easier to occasionally forget the trivialities of everyday life. I have to laugh. What is important in this life? I have no idea about it. I live right now.
And I notice how much life is here. Endless life. There is no end to it. What is important? Everything and nothing. The shadow that the chairs cast on the white wall when the sun is at the right angle. It has to be this. Just now. The smell of the lilac. The shimmer of the metallic gray of the car in front of the window right now. The cozy rustling of the washing machine and itching in the nose. A thought about my work, and that the school may open again next week, causing a little excitement. And the sparrow that is feeding its little one right before my eyes.
Lovingly I embrace these fragments of life. Every fragment is actually not a fragment at all. I only make fragments of it if I want to. But it doesn’t have to be. It can also flow freely, without interruptions. It is like a film that takes place in front of my inner and outer eyes. What is it that watches this film? About birds and migraines? What is it that looks? What is important in this life? I love living with these unanswered questions. The more unanswered questions about life, the more life itself.