The islands of Hawaii are floating alone in the middle of the Pacific ocean, far away from the rest of the world. They are close to the Equator, with little differences between seasons. The summer is hot and humid, with pouring showers of rain and rainbows in the early morning and later afternoon, the autumn and winter are very warm and sunny. As locals say, the islands are the Garden of Eden, with lush green tropical forests along the Pacific coast, waterfalls pouring from the clouds deep into the jungle, and multicolored birds flying across the landscape like the paintbrushes of God, Who is still creating, still painting, still loving our home. The Autumn had just wrote its last lines in the sand, and Winter is coming to erase the memory of the Fall.
The Soul Mechanic took me for a drive in his convertible. We drove on narrow roads that looked like gray ribbons laid gently across the green Hawaiian hills. His little white car climbed into the mountains on one-lane roads, passed ranches with horses roaming free, and descended on the other side of the island. We parked on a hill where a handful of trees overlooked the ocean from above, and we sat down in the grass.
“God is still painting his creation” I said as we looked at the green meadows stretching beneath us all the way to the ocean. The trees next to us waved yellow, orange, purple and maroon in the breeze. Some leaves dropped off their branches as offerings at the feet of the trees, while others flew jazzy with the wind.
“Ancient spiritual traditions talk about the Tree of Life: a holy tree anchored deep into the Earth and reaching up to Heaven” said the Soul Mechanic.
“I know the story” I interrupted him, and pulled out from underneath my shirt the silver pendant of the Tree of Life. “A beautiful Mexican woman gave it to me a few years ago” I grinned at him and raised my eyebrows like a guilty cat.
“The Tree of Life is not what you think, you monkey brain” he said and patted me on the back, laughing out loud. “You are the Tree of Life. Did you know that? You are the Tree of Life. Your Spirit – who you really are – is the tree, living here on Earth but growing to reach Heaven. The Holy Life within you is the Spirit of Heaven. You are the Spirit of Love Itself. But here’s the beauty of something you don’t know.” The breeze calmed down as we talked, as if trying to eavesdrop to his words.
“Look at the leaves, flying with the wind. The leaves are your thoughts: all the little worries and the giant fears, the loveless thoughts and feelings of distress, are all swirling off into the distance, far away from you, who are the tree of life. The leaves of darkness dance a wild dance into the wind, but do so dead, without trajectory and destination. They have no life apart from you, as life is gone from where love is missing. They cannot hurt you and will never touch you because they have no life. Fears and worries fly and merge, separate and shift in meaningless patterns and ideas that are now far away from you. As you think them, let them go. They hold no power over you unless you breathe life in them. As your thoughts of fear fly into the storm, they disappear from your sight, far outside of you. Release them, let them go because without you, they have no life of their own. All seasons pass and dry leaves fly away, and yet you’ll always find yourself, peaceful in the stillness Life within, in the holy present moment, growing to reach Heaven. Turn to the calm within, in the holy present moment, and there you will find God, breathing within you, always as yourself.”
Turn to the calm within & there you will find God breathing within you. Dr. Dragos (Click to Tweet!)
Dr. Dragos
DR. DRAGOS – Internationally renowned scientist and filmmaker, director of the award-winning documentary film, THE AMAZING YOU, featuring NASA legends, Rock stars, New York Times bestselling authors and the Angry Birds. Dragos spoke at conferences on five continents and his work has been translated in sixteen languages. Check out his new book: Sleepers. You can follow him on FB.
Image courtesy of Aaron Ang.
