If, while looking upon a flower, someone knelt beside you and whispered in your ear, “Therein sits God,” would you continue to call the flower, a flower? Would not the stem become a scepter and the ring of petals become a crown? If you looked upon a tree and were told that the Divine saturated every leaf, would you continue to use the word tree, or would you call it Heavenly? Would you call a rock, a simple rock, if the whisperer explained that the stone hums along with the entire universe? Would a mountain become a throne? Would not a blade of grass become an ornament of light, a glorious undulation of the whole? What if you could grasp, even for an instant, the marvel of this Unity? How would life change?
If you knew the Divine was in the air, how differently would you breathe? If you knew the Divine was under your feet, how more carefully would you tread? If you knew that the Divine were in every drop of water, how differently would you bathe each limb of your body? Knowing such things, would you continue to place the sacred here and there, within and yonder?
Would you continue to restrict Divinity to a temple, or a book, or to the Heavens? Would you keep parceling and partitioning yourself and the world, or would you seek out the Presence in all places? Would you at last accept your identity as a precious jewel in the fabric of the whole?
Yet, there is a separation. You are here and the flower is there. But the whisperer explains: the flower helps us to forget our wholeness for a while, to help us understand that we delve and dance with a will of our own, even as we play within the wonder of creation, within the unity that Is, in the Oneness that will always hold us.
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