God of Autumn

Tonight I stepped onto my back porch and felt the chill of Autumn, gazed into the sunset, so much earlier now, and listened to the frog still exulting in a pool of last nights welcome raindrops. So innocently, in my heart, before my intellect kicked in with all its "reasons" for this and that, I sensed Autumn as a living conscious Presence, whom I could greet with gratitude and whisper, "Thank you Autumn!" which I did.

And I realized that we have these vast mysterious intuitive instinctive responses, just like our so-called "primitive" ancestors, which empower us to commune with stars, moons, waterfalls and vibrant places in the forest, with seasons, with hours of the day, with night herself, and know them as persons, because everything has consciousness, just as we.

Every spider and rose is a force of consciousness, someone to be greeted with respect. There is no inanimate object. Stones are alive. They sing in their silence, if we would only listen. In the simplest hut, with no clothing but a woolen frock, each of us could be so wealthy, because the earth is our treasure, and we belong to her. We are kings. We are empresses, because each galaxy is our intimate friend, connected to a nerve in our body. We are rich beyond imagining, because we have this evening, its purple clouds, lit from within by the humble sun.

I think the salvation of the world depends on nothing more than this: learning to live in the wonder of our intuitions, like the holy animals we are.

No wonder songs came before science, prayers before philosophies, meadows and forests before nations. Ah, silly mind! Be still with amazement.