Dried leaf of Basil
There is a dried leaf of basil on my desk. It sits curled on itself. Dead and majestic with a dried yellow and brown like royalty. It makes one think of the little perfections of Nature. This dead piece of a plant’s lung and mouth, if back on the soil, becomes nutrition to earth. The cycle restarts. Such balance. Plants, are you as evolved as I appreciate you to be? Silent, unmovable observers of the world beyond, in your stillness this world depends. Never a being does so much for life without moving a single inch as you. Even static, a human being would harm more than help. Philanthropists and their piles of wealth won’t match what you do just by existing.
I bow in reverence to your leaves. Those tiny little ones are more important to me than half my organs. A selfless being you are. Imagine if for a time plants got selfish. If they could decide who breaths their oxygen, a product of their labor. Calamity would follow. Many humans would be the first on their blacklist if not the whole species.
In our superior mental capacity, we are worthless. An earthworm does more for the whole nation than a taxpayer. How dare we still few superior? I have a box full of slave worms. They recycled more trash this year than some people ever will in their lifetime. They are my pets. Masters of decay, translators of death into new life. They are closer to godly powers than our scientists will ever get. Little red Californian worms I think I own, you deserve enlightenment more than me. You will never look for it. You will never make any effort toward it. Yet, a thousand hours of meditation will not bring me as close to the light and truth as you already are. So humble you are, not even in the presence of sunlight you dare be. For this and all the goodness you bring to our undeserving life, I thank you. In this same box, there are many other laborers besides the worms. You are all deserving of my thanks.
Amazing how selfless Nature is. How many life lessons a dried leaf can teach us if we only pay attention. I am part of this entity despite all my faults and my inability to work 8 hours without laziness. In all my failures, I am still part of Nature. If we look at You, there can be no doubt a god exists. Nature is a god itself. Right across the street, It greets us with birdsongs. Its silent officers turn carbon dioxide into oxygen. Its foot-workers, little ants, move things to their rightful place all day. Not a single complaint, not even at the poor humans who concrete and pave Nature away from its own domain. She allows without saying a word. She knows once they get tired of their new toy-city Her army will return as if nothing happened before.
Surrounded by gods we look for any sign of divinity in leaves at the bottom of a teacup. So blind we are. The worst kind of blind, the one who doesn’t wish to see. I wonder whether the Boddhi tree took pity on Buddha and broke her eternal silence. A whisper of salvation, ‘Look at me’ was all she needed to say. Nature can give us all the light we need if we only learn to listen beyond its apparent silence. There are teachings galore in a small garden. More than enough wisdom. All mankind could remember who they really are by looking at a few square feet of land.
