I am sitting on my couch and watching outside as the dawn slowly unfolds itself. The sun has not started to show up but the darkness is already giving its way to the light. Previously I have noticed some moments in this nature’s daily ritual, but I have never observed the entire process. The world is slowly gaining colors: from black to gray to translucent blue.
The morning, the gray haze, changes its face every second. I never knew that the morning grows so fast. I do not want to lose a moment because the morning shifts slightly even during my blink. I wonder if I am witnessing a fast-forward version of reality.
The morning might not be as welcoming as the night. Slowly but surely, it pushes everything out of its comfort zone: darkness. Everything is equally exposed under a universal condition, the Sun. The morning does not take over the night or replaces the old with the new; it exposes the old and the new in their naked forms. The beauty and the ugly are lined up in the same room, under the same light.
The world realizes that the morning, despite its beauty, is brutal and cruel. The dark now looks even more darker than night: we are witnessing the birth of DIFFERENCE. The previous darkness welcomed everybody because of its unified world. The morning creates duality. Birth is the beginning of separation. The perfect, integrated kingdom has started to decompose into fragmented tribes.
Morning is cold, especially at dawn. It is the coldness and sadness of separation. But we also know at the end of the day, we will be reuniting again as the sun goes down and gives its way to the darkness. I am thinking of our life in general: seen from a distance, no matter how precious each life is, it might be just another clockwork ritual. Separation (birth) and Unification (death) repeat themselves.
Our life is just like another day on this universe. When we are born, we begin our journey of separation (morning), slowly reducing the influence of our parents (shadow). Our separation reaches the peak at noon, when the sun is high and leaves no shadow. Then we start a long march toward the inevitable, elongating the shadow as we walk along. The night reunites with the darkness.
When we die, we are finally reunited with everything in this universe, contributing ourselves into the huge soup of source, or perhaps into nothingness. That is how things have evolved on this earth for thousands of generations. Our life is just a blip that comes and goes just like any other day.
Then, what exactly is the point of resisting the gradual change in our life, trying to think back and forth between the past and the future? Nobody can do anything that happened or will happen even within a three-day span (and few people probably give a fxxk). There is no single “moment” we can pin down. Everything moves. There is only flow and no “time.” We will be separated when we are young no matter what, and we will be reunited when we welcome our time, also no matter what.
Can’t we let life just unfold itself? If no single moment will be repeated, what is the point of worrying about what happened or what will happen? Maybe the source of our anxiety is the fear that we are alone in this universe. That is because we are living in an illusion that the daytime, the period of separation, will continue forever. Eventually the night will arrive and will wrap everything up with its warm blanket, concluding everything.
The worries and anxieties we have now are actually privileges of living in the daytime. We may embrace it, otherwise we may lose the precious moment of separation.