Something recently I’m beginning to see in new light since being in nature in Africa is the Law of Impermanence. Also how there is an experience of beauty that can be found on the road toward acceptance of nature as it is. Even though I have been an RN for over 23 years & have many experiences with death and dying and worked in counselling people in this area I still found myself , (although I’m a huge fan of David Attinbourough) taking off down the hall or into the kitchen to avoid seeing the death moments of nature while my husband (AKA the Undercover Yogi) saying “This is nature when are you going to accept it” .
There is something about spending time in solace in nature to just watch , look and listen. To contemplate we are all part of this cycle, not separate to it.
Below is a great teaching on this from a travelling monk.
I was reminded of this as I was admiring this flower one minute and witnessing a Leopard eating its pray from the day before the next.
Another day, I went out for some fresh air to a meadow covered with flowers.
While singing and remaining in a state of awareness, I noticed among the profusion of flowers spread out before me one particular flower waving gently on its long stem and giving out a sweet fragrance.
As it swayed from side to side, I heard this song in the rustling of its petals:
Listen to me, mountain dweller:
I don’t want to hurt your feelings,
But, in fact, you even lack awareness
Of impermanence and death,
Let alone any realization of emptiness.
For those with such awareness,
Outer phenomena all teach impermanence and death.
I, the flower, will now give you, the yogi,
A bit of helpful advice
As a flower born in a meadow,
I enjoy perfect happiness
With my brightly colored petals in full bloom.
Surrounded by an eager cloud of bees,
I dance gaily, swaying gently with the wind.
When a fine rain falls,
My petals wrap around me,
When the sun shines I open like a smile.
Right now I look well enough,
But I won’t last long,
Not at all.
Unwelcome frost will dull these vivid colors,
Till turning brown, I wither.
Later still, winds-
Violent and merciless-
Will tear me apart
Until I turn to dust.
You, hermit,
Are of the same nature.
Surrounded by a host of disciples,
You enjoy a fine complexion,
Your body of flesh and blood is full of life.
When others praise you, you dance with joy;
Right now, you look well enough.
But you won’t last long,
Not at all.
Unhealthy aging will steal away
Your healthy vigor;
Your hair will whiten
And your back will grow bent.
When touched by the merciless hands
Of illness and death
You will leave this world
For the next life,
Since you, mountain-roaming hermit,
And I, a mountain-born flower,
Are mountain friends,
I have offered you
These words of good advice.
Then the flower fell silent and remained still. In reply, I sang:
O brilliant, exquisite flower,
Your discourse on impermanence
Is wonderful indeed.
But what shall the two of us do?
Is there nothing that can be done?
The flower replied:
Among all the activities of samsara
There is not one that is lasting.
Whatever is born will die;
Whatever is joined will come apart;
Whatever is gathered will disperse;
Whatever is high will fall.
Having considered this,
I resolve not to be attached
To these lush meadows.
Even now, in the full glory of my display,
Even as my petals unfold in splendor,
You, too, while strong and fit,
Should abandon your clinging
Meditate in solitude;
Seek the pure field of freedom,
The great serenity.
-by Shabkar
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