Green Oasis

I noticed the faces of the people I encountered on my walk across campus this morning. I enjoyed their variety and pondered on how many different kinds of people are needed to make our human society work. I usually hurry on my way into the office, heedless of other people, lost in my thoughts. This morning, my only thoughts were about those people. Wordlessly I thanked them for their contributions to my life.

Then I noticed a bush with brilliant red and orange flowers raising an ecstatic clarion call, celebrating its own life, and calling others to join the party. I had never noticed this bush before. It was tucked away in the corner of a building where few would probably notice it. I silently congratulated the bush for being happy even if no one came to its party.

I am Atlas: my feet in the heavens, the weight of my backyard lawn on my shoulders, watching the last of the sunset ebb from the clouds between my feet. The buzz of summer insects fills my ears. Loamy moisture fills my nostrils. My little mimic does her best sālamba sarvāngāsāna.

The lazy, white puff of tree seeds floating across the window; the butterfly flying against the wind in the opposite direction; the flavor of the nameless, spicy dish recommended by the waiter at the Indian bistro where I stopped on a whim; the soft, exotic music playing in my ears; and the sun playing on the windows of the tall downtown buildings were all a perfect accompaniment to the words of Jorge Borges tickling my thoughts from the book I had been reading as I waited for my food.