cracked earth

I'm looking at some dry cracked earth. Parched soil has cracked to form a myriad irregular arrangement of small islands of soil, about the size of a dinner plate, separated from each other by miniature ravines. Of course, the soil is barren. Nothing is growing in this fragmented, desiccated soil. And it reminds me of the way the human mind so easily becomes fragmented. Instead of being an integrated consciousness, somewhere along the way, we break up into separate little pieces: pieces which are not well connected with each other. And then they start pulling in different directions: one part of our mind wanting something and another part wanting the opposite. Tensions arise. We are pulled in different directions. And this is the cause of our suffering: these inner conflicts, this mishmash of desires, some of them arising as obligation, some arising as a primitive desire, some being driven by the morals of society, and some by our own personal ethics. But whilst the mind is broken up into so many fragments, we cannot act in a coherent way. Everything we do will be partial. And our life, like this soil before me, will feel tortured and rather barren. We will feel unfulfilled.

What we need is a downpour to saturate us again, so that we, like the mud, can coalesce into one integrated being. Then, in that gloopy soup of mud, we will find an integration and a fertility. And before we know it, our life will be giving birth to more life, and our suffering, our torment will be over. In that integration we shall feel fulfilled.