Saplings of Life

4th April, '09

I planted a few seeds in my new kitchen garden. Actually it's hardly a garden, just a little plastic box filled with mud, sitting next to the window so it can catch a few rays of sunlight. Yet when I woke up this morning and saw some tiny green saplings peeping out of the mud, I was overjoyed. I know now that they will grow into little plants that will help nourish my body and mind, a repayment much greater than the few drops of water I sprinkle them with each day. They give with no thought about whether I deserve their yield, whether I have worked for it. And I have not. I am just playing my tiny part in this whole cycle of life, I am the planter of seeds, nothing more, akin to the birds, the animals, that do it every day.

I will probably never have what they have, these saplings, but I hope to some day; this ability to give,without the expectation of anything in return, without once measuring whether the receiver deserves as much. Also, I hope to someday have their clarity of purpose, so imbibed into their existence that it demands no
thought, something that pervades their very being, they live to pass on their energy, either to another being, or just back into earth, from where they came.