JoJo -- Change of perspective

For a while I found myself compulsively fascinated with plants. Then, a few weeks ago, after I decided to stop trying so hard to control the evolution of my garden, I was driving to work and suddenly felt like all of the plants were, well, people. Plant people – not in the sense that they were walking around chatting with their neighbors – more like they were all in comas for a long time, and then suddenly they woke up. There seemed to be no one there, and then there was. They were things, and then they were people. I felt like the population of the earth had increased exponentially. And then I noticed that it wasn’t just the plants – the dirt had come alive too.
In the last couple of days it’s changed even more. Now when I walk outside – more so in my yard than anywhere else, I feel like there’s no separation between me and the plants and the earth. It’s like we’re all the same being, breathing together, our liver over there, our heart over here – if we could even make that much distinction. I’m not saying that I feel as though I have merged with nature, I’m saying that I have noticed that there is no difference. We are the same.
My yard is full of weeds and green manure, plants to be planted, stuff to be done, and it’s all beautiful to me. It’s all right. We are the light and the water and the earth and the plants and the animals and the house and the people.