The Moments Where God Lives


Going somewhere, physically moving, was always such a spiritual thing for him. And, this was a very spiritual moment. The sun was rising gently over a low hanging September sky. It was almost the start of harvest season. “The End” was playing on the radio. It reminded him that things can change, do change, and that his restlessness could be calmed. There was peace in that. He thought to himself, “If this is all I experience today, it was still worth leaving bed.”

It was his endeavor to see the sun rise and set everyday. Every single one of them was unique, and beautiful, and fleeting all at the same time: Mono no aware. These were special moments that anyone who was truly watching could see the significance of. Rarely do people truly see anything. And, he wondered what it was to be alive for all of those others.

His senses were dead sometime, and this oft made him feel alone. But occasionally, he could read those delicate words of an another, see their paintings, or come to know those beautiful moments and he would understand that he was not alone. His senses would explode, and he would feel God, or some great  connection to the world, enter him. And, he would feel the need to expel it from his soul, write it down to capture that feeling so he could remind himself that he was alive and capable of seeing beauty in those dead times. All of these moments were all too precious to him. Sometimes, many times, they were incapable of fully capturing, and he just let them flow him like the breeze. And that was good too, for those would always be just for him to know.


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