Return to what pulsates. Pulsation is the sign of life. 'Spanda' in Sanskrit (from which comes our word 'expand'), pulsation is the juice of creation. Atoms, worlds, galaxies, bubble up and dissolve as the pulse of the Infinite. Music is the pulse of silence. Dance is the pulse of stillness. Art is the pulse of color.
But when we are stuck in the mind, in dry abstractions and political arguments, we have no juice, we don't pulsate with organic energy, and we can't feel the kiss of matter and soul.
Ideology will not save our world. Our world will be saved by the call of a robin at dawn, the gaze of a baby sucking a mother's nipple, the sting of dew on your bare feet, the pulse of blood, the rhythm of your lungs. Whatever the question is, the answer is not an argument. The answer is returning to what pulsates, what quietly expands your heart. It doesn't have to be sensational or dramatic. It could be as soft and intimate as your next breath.

Photo by Laurent Berthier

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