Across the vast theater of creation,
from the silent temples of the ancients
to the laboratories of modern architects of thought,
one truth whispers through the ages:
nothing thrives when it withholds.
Imagine, for a moment, that hydrogen —
the lightest of all elements,
the spark that ignited the stars —
suddenly chose not to share,
refusing to offer its single electron to oxygen.
What then?
The sacred union we call water would never be born.
The rivers would dry, the forests fall silent,
and the song of life would lose its rhythm.
So too it is with us.
When the mind clings to what’s in it for me,
when the heart withdraws its generosity,
the great current of life begins to stagnate.
Love ceases to circulate.
Creation forgets its dance.
But in the act of giving —
in the unconditioned offering of oneself to the Whole—the river flows again.
It nourishes the roots, feeds the soil,
and awakens dormant seeds.
Every act of kindness becomes
a drop returning to the ocean.
The ancient masters called it dāna.
The modern sages call it flow.
Both point to the same eternal law:
that which gives, lives.
That which hoards, withers.
so let us breathe as oxygen breathes —
selflessly, silently —
becoming water for a thirsty world.
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