There's Got to be More to it Than This

A slightly hidden orange sun blinks gently through the scattered Evergreens. The field of flowers glistens with its fresh coat of honey the sun so graciously dressed them with. A gentle breeze carries with it the soothing scent of sunrise and morning dew-- breathe it in, my friend because a new day has just begun.

But perhaps this day won’t be just like any other day. There’s something in the air today, something different. Time has a tendency to do as it pleases regardless of how you feel: When you want it to stay, it doesn’t stay very long and when you want it to go, it can be quite stubborn; how unforgiving.

Nonetheless, today you don’t mind very much whether time wishes to linger or not, because there’s something more profound waiting to be discovered.

Take a look at those flowers, their stems swaying carelessly with the soft winds. What about the bees that whiz through their petals, foraging for pollen. And the butterflies that take a much-needed rest on them, flashing their beautiful wings. Take a look at the streams that water them, and how effortlessly they do so. There’s so much life here, so many secrets. It sure is easy to feel small when you really focus on what’s happening around you. Suddenly, your problems don’t seem all that serious. Actually, you may catch yourself laughing, wondering why you cared so much about the money you lost the other day, the appointment you missed last week, the exam you failed in high school, and everything else in between.

You sigh with relief, “I’m still here.”

But, are you? Have you ever been? What has your life entailed up until this point? Does it even matter? But, this sense of ease that you’re feeling right now, looking at all that’s around you, it’s so different, like...

You exclaim, “There’s got to be more to it than this!”, and with much conviction at that. You’ve even caught the attention of the bees and butterflies, and they’re rather intrigued by what you’ve got to say.

You gather in a deafening silence until a question so serious arises, a question so vital it’s as if asking it could unlock the greatest door ever to be opened:

“What is the meaning of all this?”

Yes. That is quite the question.

Why don’t you take a seat on the fallen tree beside you? Not only does it look inviting, but maybe it can tell you the answer. Though it won’t speak, there’s more to it than meets the eye; the secret of life is hidden in its bark, in its roots, its branches, its leaves. Just as footprints tell of travel, this tree can tell of something, too. From where did your life begin, oh dear, fallen tree?

“How incredible it is that something so grand came from something so tiny.”, you answer while examining the pine cone that lies near your feet. But hold on a moment, is that really all there is to it?

You reach beneath you, “And from where did your life begin, oh dear pine cone?”

You pause. A very long pause. A pause so long the bees and butterflies go off, tending to their own business. But you can’t be bothered calling them back to your audience, this is all too important. This day is not like any other day! You look around intensively; the flowers, the water, the trees, the clouds, the sky, even the bugs that grew bored of you. Everything, you take every single life-form into consideration and finally say:

“And from where did life begin?”

Oh, ho, ho ho-- You’ve got to the real meat of the matter now, as they say! Simplicity is key here, my friend. Don’t underestimate a simple solution to a complex problem, it only takes a bit more thinking, and so you do just that. You think and think and think some more.

“Aha!”

What’ve you got? Oh, do tell me! I’m so very interested to hear.

“No, that’s not right.”

Hm, a shame. But determination may as well be your middle name because you pop up from the seat your host so generously offered-- thank you kindly, tree-- and continue on thinking.

This time it seems you’ve got something. Your brows furrow while your eyes dance from life to life, contemplating deeply on the creation of nature. Once more you look at the sky, the clouds, the sun, the flowers, and even those silly little bugs again. How intricate but complete it is, like the most labyrinthine of puzzles yet no piece falls short, all of them fitting perfectly together, each one knowing their place. It’s too perfect to be by chance, this design is all too perfect to be by chance.

You remember something from before, “Just as footprints tell of travel...”

Yes! Now you’re onto something, my friend. Go on, let your mind connect those dots. Let the tree reveal life’s mystery!

“...the creation tells of a Creator.”

Oh, oh, oh. Now, that is quite the statement. You’ll have to elaborate. I’m afraid I can only think so far on my own.

“It is simple!”

You do say.

“The tree, what can I learn from it?”

Ah, yes! That lovely, fallen tree of ours.

“It’s got a big trunk, long roots, multiple branches, and lovely leaves, but what’s that made of?”

Plant cells?

“Plant cells!”

Oh, dear me. Perhaps I didn’t fail that Biology test in high school.

“You did.”

Very well then.

“Anyhow! Plant cells are composed of different structures like a membrane, nucleus, and other organelles.”

Right, of course!

“Well, those organelles are made up of molecules, and molecules are made up of atoms, and atoms are made up of protons, neutrons, and electrons, and they’re made up of positive and negative charges!”

That is positively intriguing! But, your face seems to shift now; that’s not all there is to it, is it?

“That’s not it though... because what are those charges made up of? And more importantly, where did they come from? These structures, like everything else around me, even myself, are all dependent upon something. So, how did I come into existence? How did anything come into existence? Did something come from nothing? Did the universe create itself? Can order come from chaos?”

Well, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed but I’m quite certain the answer is no.

“No, certainly not. That’s all too complicated and contradictory. But this answer is simple, this one makes sense: Just as footprints tell of travel, the creation tells of a Creator.”

And as those words escape your mouth a silence overtakes all the creatures, big and small, that dwell within these acres of Conifers. We all ponder on this statement, astounded by its soundness and simplicity.

You choose to break the stillness, and with quite a hefty bundle of words.

“The creation of the universe is a dependent body. It requires an independent Creator: a conscious, self-sufficient, uncreated, eternal being that is completely different from the universe itself, yet everything is reliant upon it. Otherwise, without a Creator and these characteristics, the universe simply couldn’t come into existence-- it has no power of its own!”

Your eyes fixate on the sky as the clouds sail away like great white ships, greeting all of life below as they pass by. You’ve come to such a sound conclusion, yet your expression bears the weight of deep contemplation. What could be the matter?

You walk off, leaving those silly bugs and that lovely tree to carry on with their lives, and for you to continue yours.

But, the path back home looks different today, and little do you know it’ll never be the same again. These newfound thoughts have scribbled upon the old pavement with a different map. A treasure map.

You feel almost defeated as you mumble something under your breath, your head hanging low; though soft-spoken, the words are heavy:

“Who or what is this Creator, and how do I communicate with it?”

I suppose you’ve got every right to ask such a question; however, I am not fit to carry its answer by any means. It’s a good thing determination is your middle name, my friend. I’m certain you’ll find just the answer we’re looking for, sooner or later. Until then, I’ll wait for you as the sails wait for wind. Perhaps the answer you bring will leave us voyaging along the sea, just as those great white ships, with our new treasure map upon the journey of a lifetime.