Not the big machines that fly from outer space and disguise themselves as cars and trucks.  The tiny rock-like bulbs that sprout into slender slick green rising high above the rock and earth yielding brilliant color.  Transformers like the rigid bare tough bark of trees that blush red nodules and pour out blossoms that serve as wedding bouquets for cherubs.

Renewal and regeneration is constant.  Thus each new birth is a sign of eternity.  How can I be inert with the bursting and busting, greening and shining around me?  What is it about humans that sink into mud and shit, forgetting that rich fertilizer at our roots? 

Mountain range in the west, layers of rock and snow, hundreds of miles away reminded me of the infinite depths in stillness.  Tiny white violets snuggled and crowding in babbling spring delight chattered about the power in persistence.  Snow lining the northern shadows so comforted in its slow surrender to nourish the newness.

The Tao today is bigger than gods, and even She bows to the dance of the spheres that She fashioned from a bit of dirt, creative fire, tears of joy, thrown into eternity.