Here we are, stepping into the vast super intelligent networking of nature and connecting to our role and placement in it. It was an inner journey in search of that tiny speck of intelligence in each and every creation, constantly being called upon to decide how the universe should run.
Anyone foraying into this vast field of energy in which life’s drama is unfolding, will get a glimpse of the primal motherboard of Gods’ own computer, its circuits carrying vibrating strands of energy, ceaselessly conveying vital messages to assigned flash points. You may call this computer scientist, Universal Consciousness, God, Nature or by any other name you fancy. But the machine is wired to ensure connectivity as the basic principle of the entire creation. The interventions from time to time could be categorized under positive or negative depending on where you are posted in the system, but the total effect would be exactly as it should be.
How am I, a human being, connected to this plant and the glorious web within which it lives?
Human beings breathe in Oxygen and breathe out Carbon Dioxide. If nature has branded many trees in a forest with the silvery foot prints of lichen, it is considered a certification of the forests’ purity. Where a Shola is desecrated by outside incursions, the shy Nilgiri pigeon will pack her bags and leave in protest. The sandal seedling will not survive if planted on its own; it needs to be alongside a kind of Bean (legume) which has nitrogen fixing properties. We have read about the amazing migrations of the some of the migratory birds. The salmon swims thousands of miles upstream from the ocean to the upper reaches of rivers to spawn in the gravel beds. After spawning the parents die to become food for the babies. The children grow to adulthood in the river after which they swim back to the sea where their progenitors came from. The source of this instinct to get back home with no GPRS to help is the primordial consciousness.
The visionary Malayalam writer, Nalapat Narayana Menon wrote an elegy called ‘Tear Drops’ after the demise of his wife ten months into their love marriage, delivering a premature baby. The baby too did not survive. The poet wails in his grief,
“If my life breath is needed to fashion the tender veins of the common grass, so be it.
But then why is the grass burnt in its prime?”
The Stillness Project 