On our inseparability from the living field of being
We are not apart from life.
We are born of it, carried by it, and sustained in every breath.
Life is not the backdrop of our existence—it is the fabric of our being.
Its roots flow in our blood, its wings rise in our longing, and its cries echo in our grief.
Yet we have learned to think of ourselves as separate, as masters of what sustains us.
This is the first incoherence, the fracture from which all others grow.
To exploit life is to betray ourselves.
To consume without measure is to wound the very field that makes us possible.
Every forest cut, every river poisoned, every species extinguished—
these are not distant losses. They are amputations of our own body.
But to honor life—
to recognize its pulse as our pulse, its breath as our breath, its memory as our memory—
is to return to coherence.
To honor life is to see that there is no “other” in the field of being.
There is only one fabric, endlessly weaving itself, endlessly fragile, endlessly sacred.
Here lies the threshold of responsibility:
to live not as masters of life, not as tenants renting space upon it,
but as life itself—
fragile, enduring, and responsible for the whole.
When we forget this, we shrink into incoherence.
When we remember, we awaken into sacredness.
To serve life is not a pious wish.
It is the one vocation given to every being.
To honor life is to live in coherence.
To betray life is to dissolve ourselves.
The choice is not future but present—
not theoretical but embodied in every act.
Life is not apart from us.
It is us.