Every morning I do the same small ritual.I make a cup of tea.
I sit by the window.
I look at one particular heart-shaped leaf on my Philodendron hederaceum (the one in the photo I took, the one that keeps teaching me).And in that quiet moment, physics, poetry, and prayer all say the same thing.
Form is temporary. Energy is permanent.
Touch it the Leaf: you feel boundary, firmness.
That’s just atoms refusing to occupy the same space, electromagnetic forces pretending to be solid.
Look at it: the green you see is every wavelength except the ones the chlorophyll rejects; those rejected photons bounce into your retina and you call it “colour.”
Smell it: a few molecules break their bonds, drift, and tickle the receptors in your nose.
Crush it: other molecules react with your tongue and you call it “taste.”
Rustle it: air molecules bounce off the leaf, vibrate, reach your eardrum, and you call it “sound.”
Five senses, zero matter.
Only energy dancing, only consciousness watching the dance.The leaf is not a thing.
It is a process, a temporary whirlpool in the river of energy.
Right now, consciousness (call it Life, call it Brahman, call it the quantum field, call it God) is generously lending coherence to a few trillion atoms so they can play “leaf” for one season.
One day the loan will be recalled.
The pattern will dissolve.
The atoms will wander off to become cloud, soil, beetle, maybe a line in someone else’s poem.
The leaf will wither and fall.But the energy? Untouched.
It was never born, so it never dies.
It just changes costumes.
Entropy wins every local battle (the leaf yellows, curls, drops).
But Energy wins the war (nothing is lost, only transformed).This is why the leaf never looks worried.It knows the secret we keep forgetting while chasing permanent forms in an impermanent world:
jobs, reputations, bodies, bank balances, even relationships; all leaves.
Beautiful, sacred, temporary leaves.So I sip my tea a little slower now.I bow to the heart-shaped teacher outside the window.Thank you for the reminder, little leaf:
Hold lightly.
Love fully.
Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal truly exists.Between breaths, between sips, between heartbeats,
Energy keeps flowing.
Consciousness keeps watching.
And the play goes on.Forever class.
Temporary form.See you in the next costume.
By— Someone learning to drink tea like the leaf lives: lightly, lovingly, and without clinging.
I sit by the window.
I look at one particular heart-shaped leaf on my Philodendron hederaceum (the one in the photo I took, the one that keeps teaching me).And in that quiet moment, physics, poetry, and prayer all say the same thing.
Form is temporary. Energy is permanent.
Touch it the Leaf: you feel boundary, firmness.
That’s just atoms refusing to occupy the same space, electromagnetic forces pretending to be solid.
Look at it: the green you see is every wavelength except the ones the chlorophyll rejects; those rejected photons bounce into your retina and you call it “colour.”
Smell it: a few molecules break their bonds, drift, and tickle the receptors in your nose.
Crush it: other molecules react with your tongue and you call it “taste.”
Rustle it: air molecules bounce off the leaf, vibrate, reach your eardrum, and you call it “sound.”
Five senses, zero matter.
Only energy dancing, only consciousness watching the dance.The leaf is not a thing.
It is a process, a temporary whirlpool in the river of energy.
Right now, consciousness (call it Life, call it Brahman, call it the quantum field, call it God) is generously lending coherence to a few trillion atoms so they can play “leaf” for one season.
One day the loan will be recalled.
The pattern will dissolve.
The atoms will wander off to become cloud, soil, beetle, maybe a line in someone else’s poem.
The leaf will wither and fall.But the energy? Untouched.
It was never born, so it never dies.
It just changes costumes.
Entropy wins every local battle (the leaf yellows, curls, drops).
But Energy wins the war (nothing is lost, only transformed).This is why the leaf never looks worried.It knows the secret we keep forgetting while chasing permanent forms in an impermanent world:
jobs, reputations, bodies, bank balances, even relationships; all leaves.
Beautiful, sacred, temporary leaves.So I sip my tea a little slower now.I bow to the heart-shaped teacher outside the window.Thank you for the reminder, little leaf:
Hold lightly.
Love fully.
Nothing real can be threatened.
Nothing unreal truly exists.Between breaths, between sips, between heartbeats,
Energy keeps flowing.
Consciousness keeps watching.
And the play goes on.Forever class.
Temporary form.See you in the next costume.
By— Someone learning to drink tea like the leaf lives: lightly, lovingly, and without clinging.