|Photo by Vlad Dumitrescu, used by permission.|
I saw some cows today, and I was completely mesmerized. I could not take my eyes off them because they had transported me into a different realm. Time stopped for a moment, and “I” died. Throughout the day, “I” had been growing and growing, being overtaken by the importance of “my being” and by the needs that “my” existence brought before “me.” My world was “me.” With no connection with the earth, and I mean this literally, running from one “assignment” to another, I had become engulfed with my own neediness, and that could not be filled. Then, I saw the cows. It was raining a bit, and the wind brought leaves into the air. And I just “realized” that life is real, and that I had departed from it.
I am not talking about a rational process, of course. There was no argument with premises and conclusions there. It was just that: the cows; the cows and my disappearance.
There is so much “stuff” around me these days: stuff of my own creation, my daily idols to which I bow without realizing. And it grows and grows on me, making me a giant of nothingness. It is this stuff that brings my annihilation for I no longer have communion with the earth, with that which surrounds me, but rather only with myself. What surrounds me is me, is what I have made out of life. I love things (and by that I mean my daily activities, my passions, my work), and I slowly die to life and live in death, in my indulgences.
But from time to time a cow comes my way and moos me out of my nothingness, reminding me that life is not what I have made, but what has been gifted to me in love. That everything is already there, inviting for communion.
I wish for a daily cow. I wish to be able to see my daily cow.
P.S. While I was writing this, a friend of mine reminded me of a prayer of Fr. Arsenie Boca: “Lord Jesus Christ, help me let go of myself today…” Amen!