beads of water

I've been sitting by the lily pond again, and this time what caught my attention were some beads of water sitting on one or two of the lily leaves. These beads of water looked like quicksilver. The leaves must be waxy, I guess. It's as if the beads of water want to minimise their contact with the leaf. They are curled up, barely touching the leaf, sitting there completely still.

And then as I watched, something rather curious happened. It's as if one of the beads of water felt shy, and my attention was too much for it. And suddenly, without any warning, without any movement in the water, without a breath of wind, suddenly this bead of water rolled across the leaf, took a left turn and plopped into the pond.

Watching these beads of water, they reminded me of egos. Our ego is an attempt to curl up into a ball and isolate ourself from the rest of existence. And for a while it sort of works: at least we can convince ourself that we are separate. In the end, though, like this bead of water that mysteriously returned to the pond, in the end we too, quite spontaneously, return to the ocean of life. We come home to who we really are. And that home coming can be as unexpected as this bead of water plopping back into the pond.