On Life

Life’s fateful events mostly first occur in our souls, unnoticed, without thunder and lightning. The old world just silently collapses within us, and we ignore it, because our eyes are used to look outside.

The present just happens, regardless of our plans, looking like a mere coincidence of everyday circumstances, and has no form or comeliness, until later transformed in our comprehension, much like a lens collects diffused light into a glowing point.

Only then life becomes life. Until then, we only yearn for it—we hear its magic voice, but cannot tell where it comes from and where it goes.

Only after becoming past irrevocably, our life presents itself to us, as a city lying in a valley suddenly spreads out before a mountain traveler’s stare, and then we are able, albeit briefly, to recognize our wanderings as part of the long way, to take a deep breath, and bring down to the valley the freshness of the mountain wind and the vivid scent of wild grasses, alone possessing a genuine healing power.

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Photo: Zach Dischner

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