Notice the tiny stem of the cukeroot holding the whorl of leaves and fruit above it, what a tremendous show of determination no. We can laugh at what an animal may think but could this be nature giving itself some kudos? Check out the short video below, the earth nods yes.
Take a breathe and see, can you feel the change, a movement happening in you?
Another breathe and another look and another change and another you, seems almost like a flowing pattern. Pausing to notice a living body is simply an amazing experience . If there is life some things will be sensed, without life change continues as it does without missing a beat.
It is I, though this I can not even sense the trillions of microbe lifes living within this body, it seems clear sensory of animals and other life forms are limited and can be understood as minor participants in the constant shift. Notice the breathe in it and the I will not feel the need to be guided while it flows. Do get comfortable in it.
Nature sees itself from the sensory of living forms. With this in mind it would seem, if nature doesn’t take care of itself surely nothing else will. Nature’s tiny eyes can see much farther than the mind tends to assume.
Matter can seem quite logically one, when large enough it can be noticed by senses.
Things very naturally come to mind as the mind frequently notices.
Mind is matter, matter seems a constantly changing one.
Earth is well over 99% made up of nonliving matter, a small part of 1% of the living forms are animals which are way down the list in prominence with plants leading the pack along with a few others noticeable life forms. Where life forms appear senses will be present. It may seem to some human minds that one is all, so with that in mind the mind can seem to one a small matter.
You frighten what I seem to you, no human sage through practice can lower their heart and breathe rate, decrease their body temp to near freezing and not eat or drink for several months like your dreamed-up Tantramar guru can.
Vibrations are noticed so hear this in my whistle, there are no miracles in the formless or I’s to do them, just this natural holiness, digging what seems to appear.