In the garden · Next door

Dear reader, How could I define the pure joy of being alive? That is what I reflected on today, and I wanted to share a few thoughts with you. The cosmos flower inspired me and carried me somewhere I did not expect. Words are imperfect instruments through which we try to come closer to one another and, together, to the world. But words are not the only instruments. We have a body that is always communicating with us, if we slow down enough to listen to it. We often take ourselves seriously when it hurts. Joy seems locked away in a dusty archive. We have forgotten that the dust left on our fingers may be the very dust of joy. We were taught that hands must always be clean. Dust is no longer familiar to us. And yet, the rush is so familiar to us that slowing down has become a train ticket too expensive to a distant destination. Another world. It is too simple, far too simple, to feel joy. In a complicated world, in a world anaesthetised by the perfection of a flawless model, slowing down seems like a fairy tale. The cosmos, however, is real. I met it in a flower. I looked at it. I touched it. I listened to it. Speak to me in shades of white… So much to tell me, until our reality meets the reality around us, and perfection itself discovers that white has countless shades. I invite you to look at the cosmos and to let the dust of joy remain on your fingers.