Winter - The Friction of Creation

The symbol of true death.

The season before rebirth.

The Gods of insects go dorment.
The Dieties of birds relocate.
The human beings stand their ground.

The beings of others are cursed by the now.
Forced to look out of the prison of their senses and experience all their hardships and shortcomings in the impact of a single moment.

Human beings have the blessing to ignore what is in front of them.
We may directly look into the eye of a hurricane and bare witness to the spring behind it [after a short commercial break]

The spring has a rhythm in it's air.
A rhythm, a bounce, an aura, a spell.
Every being, every insect is dancing.
A ritualistic dance of life, to an echoed rhythm, holding the human for all of his or her cycles.

Breathe deep with your bare feet in the snow.
It is not you who feels pain.
It is all.

I once read that we are not human beings having spiritual experiences,
But that we are spiritual beings having human experiences.
In light we are bound as humans.
In darkness we are an unbound Prometheus
striking at the hand that feeds because we ignore
what is truly in front of us.
Fire and ice is not what we feel
What we feel is the friction of creation

The neccessities of our being,
For we are the Star Children.
We are the universe experiencing itself you see.
What came first the painter or the painting?
Did you create that masterpiece?
Or did it create you?