While There Is Life

Chapter 1

Gura was sitting silently beside Gräs, waiting, listening, in the green depths of the forest floor.

Purple flower blooms sprung from a nearby vine violently tickled Gräs on the left shoulder and she sneezed.

“Ah!” yelped Gura. her squeaky voice emanating from the direction of her ephemeral body's shadow. “Good morning, Parvi.”

The flower nodded.

“Listen,” cooed Gura. “Listen until you forget your small body.”

“It's not very small,” said Gräs.

“That's not the point. Just listen to the sounds of the morning, here, at this moment, in this forest.”

Gräs closed her eyes.

“Every tree... blah blah something profound about trees. Now think of the tubers.”

“Ohhhh, they're delicious,” Gräs cooed as if on cue. “I love how they're so chewy and~”

“Shh!.....Now, what happens when you take a tuber shoot that's been growing on a neglected corner of an uneaten blue potato in the heart of the house, cut it from the larger tuber and plant it in the moist soil? What does it do?”

“It grows.”

“Into what?”

“More potatoes. Usually.”

“Excellent, my pupil,” Gura said drily.

A vibrant turquoise Calliopteryx cut through the dewy morning air with little snippy wing-beats.

“Apologies if I disturbed your meditation session,” began the 42-millimeter long sentient being known to all of his neighbors as Piki, honourable Lt. Conscience of the Naead Jyl. The bug's presence was weighty and dignified, belied by his tiny size.

“No need to apologize, Piki,” Gura smiled. “Blessings to you this day.”

“Thank you, ma,” Piki smiled a tiny crystal-glint of a smile and flew between the fat, periwinkle leaves of a Water Nettle.

Gräs kept still, a serene vessel housing a calm soul in the sweet morning air, and felt the air move softly in and out of her lungs.

“Just like your favorite plant~”

“It's not my favorite.”

“Oh,” puzzled Gura. “But you're always going on about how tasty it is.”

“Ohhh, it is tasty.”

“Anyway,” said Gura, with utmost patience. “I am trying to create a metaphor. Just like your beloved tubers, is your Brain. You are born, and your Brain is one thing, it sees only itself, and all things as part of itself. The sequestering of a neglected potato may seem like a tragedy to the tuber, but it is only by experiencing the solitude of its own being and the passage of time that it can germinate new life. Your Brain, similarly, must learn the lesson of solitude. It is to become light, become source, and bring something new into the world through the giving of itself. Then we are become light.”

“But Gura.”

“Yes, my child.”

“Sometimes it's hard.”

“I know, sweetheart. Remember, the rewards are infinite, and shared by all.”

And Gras calmed her mind, and violet light poured and took form, like larkspur bells or wisteria budding on a vine, in the deep green forest of her Heart.

Breathe.