Life, always young and always dangerous

'Again, it has been a clear sunny day, with long shadows and sparkling leaves; the mountains were serene, solid and close; the sky was of an extraordinary blue, spotless and gentle. Shadows filled the earth, it was a morning for shadows, the little ones, the big ones, the long lean ones and the fat satisfied ones, the squat homely ones and the joyful, spritely ones. The roof-top of the farms and the chalets shone like polished marble, the new and old. There seemed to be a great rejoicing and shouting among the trees and meadows: they existed for each other and above them was heaven, not the man-made, with its tortures and hopes. And there was life, vast, splendid, throbbing and stretching in all directions. It was life, always young and always dangerous; life that never stayed, that wandered through the earth, indifferent, never leaving a mark, never asking or calling for anything. It was there in abundance, shadowless and deathless, it did not care where it came from or where it was going. Wherever it was there was life, beyond time and thought.  It was a marvellous thing, free, light and unfathomable. It was not to be closed in; where they closed it, in places of worship, in the marketplace, in the home, there was decay and corruption and their perpetual reform. It was there, simple, majestic and shattering and the beauty of it is beyond thought and feeling. It is so vast and incomparable that it fills the earth and heavens and the blade of grass that’s destroyed so soon. It is there with life and death.'

A dear friend just sent me this quote from Krishnamurti, which I wanted to share with you. Happy Easter, Eostre, Ostara. Grebes are diving here, sowing death amongst the minnows, but joy in me.