I’ll be forty soon. Something is different. I used to believe in one thousand ideas. Now I only believe in my self. And everyone else’s self. Even when they don’t. For the past twenty years I studied all I could get my stay-at-home-mom-of-two busy hands on, took evening and week-end courses regarding the human: psychology, biology, alternative medicine, spirituality, philosophy. In the mean time, we moved overseas and raised a family.
Then we returned home, first to our home town, then moved to a small village.
Now, we moved to a big city. We live right downtown. From the green buzzing enchanting orchards of a small village, where birds, crickets, foxes, dear, dogs and cats all have a name and they know ours too, where wild flowers are chatty especially in the morning, where people faithfully follow cosmic rhythms: work the land, feed animals, milk animals, work the land, build animal sheds, sit and watch the world pass by. And repeat. Nothing outside this eternal cosmic order ever happens in the village. No one will ever tell you what you should do or don’t do. It’s the best place to rest and regenerate while doing a lot of physical work.
In the city, you’ve got to think. If you don’t, someone else’s thoughts will enslave you and carry you some alien place far far away. In the city, you must know who you are and do your own thing or someone else will tell you who you are not and what you can’t do.
In the city you’ve got to think ahead and fast to match the speed of the “giant cosmic animal” (citing Andrei Plesu, Romanian writer). Because in the city, cosmos is growing fast, newly birthed.
If the giant cosmic animal is a big sphere of smaller spheres which are formed of smaller spheres, and smaller and smaller … I am one small sphere somewhere in that pattern, filling with my unique color one little dot in that big picture. All my life I am stirring, whirling, mixing, reaching, testing, whitening, darkening, comparing, sifting, resting, pounding, baking until I become that exact specific unique color. Now, the trick of happy life is timing. I continually adjust my speed until it matches EXACTLY the speed of the unfolding cosmos.
Once I’m a there, it’s smooth happy flowing.
I’ll turn forty soon. I have something to celebrate.
At forty, I get THE driver’s license. I can drive my own personal spherical self.
MANTRA AT FORTY : MIND YOUR OWN HAPPINESS AND LET OTHERS BE.
Andreed Garden, September 2016