I am having increasingly unusual inner experiences during this present period of deep reinterpretation in my life. I was in the neighbor’s garden, where — by prior agreement — I cut down a few dead trees and some acacias that were overshadowing our fruit trees. Whenever I hold a chainsaw in my hands, a question touches me: Do I have the right to do this?
The answer arrived in a single condensed moment — though not as a direct reply. These expansions of awareness usually respond not to the question itself, but to the standpoint from which the question arises. As if something gently asked back: From this perspective — is this still your question?
I did not merely look — I truly saw the neglected area before me. Two dead apricot trees and a cherry tree were almost entirely covered by thick forest vine growth that had overtaken them. It did not feed from them — it simply occupied their space and deprived them of the conditions needed to live, while fulfilling its own nature. Not symbiosis — but survival dominance. As a climbing plant, its role is to grow over whatever stands in its path.
We have the same plant in our own garden in small numbers, and when it begins to climb our fruit trees, I remove it without hesitation. Why does the question of legitimacy not arise there? That plant too exists within the all-pervading intention of the Unnameable — fulfilling its role. Its existence has a right to life. So where are the limits of my right? And who is this “I” who claims authority over life and death?
Again I saw and felt that there is only the pure cycle reflected through roles in a vast play. Experience stands beyond life and death. Just as the vine cannot take away the tree’s experience, neither can I. I can only alter the quality of its form of existence. Everything continually transforms and merges into other forms of unity.
A fallen tree becomes a home for countless small beings — insects, fungi, moss — and continues as living experience through them. Every moment the fruit-bearing tree lived — every nourishment given, every shelter offered — is already inscribed into the shared field. This cannot be taken away.
My awareness expanded again and showed me that the same applies in the vegetable garden. Do I have the right to pick lettuce leaves or harvest tomatoes before the plant “lets them go”? Survival patterns form a stronger cluster than mind-made morality tends to admit.
I can see it this way: when I plant a seed, its life begins within my intention. I am midwife at its birth, caretaker in its growth, partner in its maturity — and finally the one who ends its form. I have not eaten meat for nearly two decades, yet I felt that even that could be approached in the same inner quality. Beyond interpretation, there is no essential difference — the rest would be mental gymnastics.
As life has shown me many times, the deeper question is not what I do, but how I do it.
It is not enough to routinely say a blessing before eating. One may instead become the blessing — receiving with reverence that which nourishes me through its life and passing, which continues in me through sacred transformation, which supports my experience. It is not enough to think this is right — it is worth living it as right.
Everything around me and within me participates in this sacred dance of the cycle. There are no exceptions. Yet the human being participates differently — because we are more than instinct-driven creatures. Our decisions and actions can extend beyond survival necessity. We are capable of consciously observing the quality of our intention and action — and therefore we are free.
From here, the question “Do I have the right?” loses its meaning and gives way to something else: a clear recognition. I see myself as a small gear within an eternal cycle — not more than a humble participant in the play of wholeness.
Whatever I do, may my reason be clear. May love be present in me. May my actions be permeated with respect for experience that spans life and death. May I carry my role simply — with compassion toward all, and with dignity.
Then there is order, clarity — and no question remains.
With love,
your traveling companion
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