Dance, stillness and joy . . !

19

THE peepul tree that grows over my home, is quite literally a source of inspiration for me. This morning as I sipped my coffee and looked up at its majestic branches, I wondered at how still the leaves were. Now a peepul leaf is quite different from other leaves as the long stem gives the leaves a freedom to twist, turn and dance away at every gust of wind that blows.

And suddenly that’s exactly what they did. They felt the breeze before I did, and with gay abandon, I saw their joy as they twirled and whirled, spun, coiled and gyrated, their green flashing with joy in the sun which had just raised its head above the horizon! I watched, delighted. And then there was stillness, but as I watched I felt I saw that the same action of joy, the dance that had just taken place had not stopped but was still continuing in the minds of the leaves.

There seemed sparkles of excitement, even as the leaves now hung still. And in my mind, I wondered whether that burst of breeze had been captured by the leaves in their little hearts and kept inside, so that even though the wind had stopped, the joy of their dancing remained.

I was certain that I’d struck upon a great truth, that every gust of wind was a mountain top experience which the leaves had with their Maker, and even when the wind stopped, the joy remained. I was certain the same is with us even as my mind likens the breeze and the leaves to the relationship between a father and child.

That a father bestows gifts on his child, which makes the child bounce and skip around with happiness, and then the father stops, but the child, having felt the father’s love, remains in that state of joy, knowing that the love is there, and has not gone away.

How often, we who have felt blessings upon blessings of our Father’s love, suddenly find the breeze stopping, and a lull? Do we look up disappointed or do we smile knowing that even without His blessings His presence is still around, that suddenly like a gust of wind those heavenly arms will reach out and make us twirl and whirl, spin, coil and gyrate around like a dancer, and you the partner on the dance floor of life?

In the stillness of the morning the peepul leaves look at me, their stems also hushed in their static. “Tell them Bob,” whisper the leaves as the tree smiles at me, “that we are dancing inside, even at times when the Breeze doesn’t blow..!”

 

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