I am nothing 

I am no more important than that tree or that bird. 

No. More. No less. I am a part of it all. Divine expressing as a human. Divine expressing as a bird. Divine expressing as a tree. Divine existing.

I am no more important than that. 

So why do I worry. Define. Demarcate.  Delineate. Differentiate. Between me and that bird. Me and that tree. Me and the light falling off the tree. Shower of light. 

So very busy. Defining and demarcating. Striving and desiring. Constricting and clenching.

And taking my self so very much more seriously than the bird or the tree, cutting myself off from the Oneness that I Am. Severing myself from the very love and inspiration and meaning and purpose for which I long. So intent am I to define. To solve. 

Only when I am nothing. 

Does any of it make sense. 

Nothing.

No more than the tree. 

No more than the dog. 

No more than the bird. 

A fancier shirt, fancier suit, the mind says.

No, not that either.  

In my nothingness lay purpose.

The divine dance of creation expressing and experiencing. 

Awareness itself. Witnessing. Participating.

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

Than the tree that stands in the forest. 

Than the bird in the tree. 

Than the dog rolling in the snow under a falling shower of  light. 

This human. 

Nothing in the blip of time and space. Nothing. And yet inside the seed of everything, just like the tree, the light, the bird.

Who is to say the tree isn’t more important. It is Life. I get lost when I think my life. It is just Life. And I am a part of it. No definitions. No names to separate and define. No hierarchies of importance. No demarcations.

I experience and express, draw from roots, grow toward light, create leaves and shed lives. 

Sometimes I sing. Sometimes I hide. Rarely do I rest. Rarely do I play, except in the nothingness. Then I am like a child and I only know play. Being for no reason. Swaying just because. Singing to the unseen dance.

Like the tree. Like the bird. Like the dog. Like the snow falling with the the wind of Life in a forest, expressing in harmony with the unfolding divinity of divine creation, coming to rest, melting into the roots. Becoming nothing. Resting in nothing. Resting in the nothing.

Of which I am a part.

Not an important part. 

Just a part. 

Like the tree. 

Like the bird. 

Like the falling light. They don’t define. They don’t separate. They don’t sever. They don’t name. They don’t strive. They don’t try. They just be. 

No separateness from the rest and therefore no definition.  No edges. No edges. No edges. No boundaries.

Just me. 

Just tree. 

Just bird. 

Just dog.

Just light. 

No edges, no boundaries. 

To be is divine. 

It is holy. 

It is my homecoming. 

My belonging.