I might be a raindrop

Think of a raindrop, a leaf on a tree, wave in the ocean, or a flower.  Yes think of a flower for that is what you are.  Blooming into being from somewhere beyond, and somewhere within.  Slowly unfurling to experience the sun and the rain and the wind.

With these things in our lives why is it so hard to believe we will never die?

Why is it impossible seeming that we have lived thousands, maybe millions -- maybe immeasurable lives?

We know without a doubt there is a finite amount of water on our planet and yet there are infinite raindrops, infinite waves on the oceans, drops of dew on the grass.

 

We are taught the cycles of weather and water in school, we understand the science behind the rain - some of it at least, we are taught that energy is a constant, it doesn't disappear, it just changes from one form to another.

 

Why should we presume that we somehow fall outside of the grand scheme of nature and the universe?  That we are a one off miracle.  These raindrops that fall, have been here before, they fell on armies of invading Romans, swept down the Nile before the pyramids were created, landed as dew beneath great lumbering beasts and were something else before then.  And yet, somehow, with each new storm, each springtime shower they are born again, the same and yet different - different and yet the same.

Perhaps we are raindrops, or flowers or leaves, most definitely we are each unique and will continue to be so, unique and yet the same.

 

Mystery has its own mysteries, and there are gods above gods. We have ours, they have theirs. That is what's known as infinity.  Jean Cocteau