The Simple Meaning of Life

The farmer found the mare lying on her side near the edge of the pasture. She was lying peacefully, almost as if sleeping; only occasionally raising her head to look back at where her first-bo
was soon to meet this wondrous world. It was as if she had done this many times, and perhaps she had, in the recesses of that mysterious mind of her species.

She watched carefully as her foal’s head appeared. She showed no pain or apprehension, only reflecting the immense peacefulness of this quiet meadow as it sheltered its two special beings; nothing else was in this moment.

And as the farmer watched the miracle of birth, the farmer disappeared; he became one with the mare and her colt.

While the colt struggled within its first few moments of life, the mare stood and began licking him, protecting him, and in that precious moment, the meaning of life was as self-evident to the farmer as it ever could be. How could there be more meaning to life than what he was discovering in this miracle before him?

The mare vigilantly watched over her new colt for the better part of an hour, until it finally stood upright on its wobbly legs, tail wagging. It looked out at its new world, in awe; that exceptional awe reserved for the sensitive, those who can see without the burdens of life smothering their minds.

And as the colt moved instinctively toward its mother for protection, the farmer quietly turned and walked back to his own world, his gaze falling across row upon row of corn. He noticed, yet again, how the crop was stunted from the drought. The money he and his wife had saved might have to be tapped once more.

The pains in his chest were coming more frequently now. He thought about getting checked out, but if he needed an operation, or expensive drugs, how could they afford it? No, he had burdened his wife with far too much already. Maybe the pains would go away.

He thought back to his own firstborn, the wonderment of it, and how after only a few hours the baby died. The midwife did what she could, but she was not schooled in these things as well as a doctor would be. It wasn’t her fault; it was nobody’s fault, yet the farmer lived with it all these years, as he held his wife close every night.

On his way back to the farmhouse, the farmer pondered the meaning of this life. The preacher seemed to have it all figured out, had an answer to everything, but to the farmer, as he looked across his fields and up at the sky filled with morning light, life seemed too large to fit it into anyone’s neat little shoe box.

He was almost home now, and noticed that he was so lost in thoughts and memories that he completely missed the beauty of this farm he so loved, stunning in the morning dew with the sounds of roosters, and the whisper of the ever-present wind. How could he be so shortsighted and blind to miss out on all of this beauty? How could he be so self-absorbed, that life, and its incredible moment-to-moment meaning, simply slipped away from him time and again?

The farmer wanted to talk to his wife about these things, but this was not the right time; she was busy getting ready for the day ahead. Maybe later tonight . . . but then they would be tired.

That night, as he watched her sleep, the tears came again. They seemed to come more frequently now. Perhaps it was because he seemed to touch the meaning of life a little more often lately, and it in turn touched his heart. It was right there in the pasture today, with the mare and her new colt, but it slipped away once again.

If only he could remain in those special moments, moments that he knew in his heart were ete
al; moments that were so special in their own right that within each one was its own particular meaning of life, and the meanings and moments moved so quickly! Far too quickly for the farmer to capture them, possess them. He could only look upon each moment with the eyes of a newbo
foal – with awe and wonderment.

He also knew – somewhere deep inside, cultured from so many years on this silent land – the secret to life. Not only life, but beyond life. He knew that no matter where he found himself, either here or in the hereafter, if he could but remain in each moment without himself in the way, then, the meaning of life would express itself in every moment, moment-to-moment, ete
ally.

Perhaps the farmer would never be able to speak of these things, or about the meaning of life; he was a simple man. However, he knew these things in his heart, and that night, as he watched his life partner sleep; his precious moment became everything. . .nn n