“I just don’t understand,” Rock complained, “why the ones that breathe don’t always celebrate it!”
“It weighs heavily on me too, little brother,” Mountain agreed.
“Tree has lived a thousand years on my side, breathing in the sweet air, and gifting back oxygen, and she is aware!”
Rock called out to Tree, her tenacious and weathered limbs still holding life high, “Hey Tree, why are you always so positive?”
This was Tree’s gentle response:”I am part of you, Mountain, though I have not always been, and though you will survive me.
My root-fingers reach into your being, subtly changing who you are with my presence. Yes, I have experienced scarcity, giving, and receiving, yet these have given me the gift of peace.”
Tree looked down into her shadow, and saw Tortoise. “Do you also acknowledge the passing of time, old friend?”
Tortoise slowly nodded. “I live for the moment, and a century passes over my shell as a cloud in front of the sun,” she answered. “Life is too important to fret over. We are all aware of that once our early years have been lived.”
The sound of movement stopped the conversation. A tribe of people were climbing Mountain. Their urgency showed. Their thoughts were on food, water and procreation. They had little in the way of belongings, as yet, to distract them, yet still they did not notice Tortoise, and looked past the others on their path, stumbling over Rock.
Once they had passed Rock grumbled, “You see what I mean?” he exclaimed.
“They trip over us, yet fail to recognize us, our importance!”
“Give them time,” Mountain was firm, “they have not yet remembered they also are born outside of time, and will one day lie as I do, recalling when the stars flickered their first light, and we all knew the same energy had birthed us.”