“Just as the wave cannot exist for itself,but is ever a part of the heaving surface of the ocean,so must I never live my life for itself, but alwaysin the experience which is going on around me.”
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow. I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
Yesterday we were bird watching at Kokkarebellur, near Bangalore, a natural bird sanctuary. These are Painted Storks, the migratory birds that arrive every winter.