Blossoms

The little blossom tree, which seemed so small and weak bloomed with pink flowers.
It's been over two weeks since I last saw it, but this time, it's previously bare and dry branches were adorned with flowers. Some fully open, with golden sticks of pollen radiating from the centre of the petals; others still closed, shy buds, not yet ready to reveal their attractive beauty. Such beauty, another silent and miraculous display of nature's art.

Or at least, that's what it seemed like.

As I took a few steps closer, I realised I had been deceived.
Those flowers are not real.

Family

Someone sent me an article which is worth reading and sharing...

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If you want to find Dhamma, it has nothing to do with the forests or the mountains or the caves. It’s only in the heart, and it has its own language of experience. There is a great difference between concepts and direct experience. With a glass of hot water, whoever puts his finger into it will have the same experience – hot — which can be expressed in as many different words as there are different languages. Similarly, whoever looks deeply into the heart will have the same experience, no matter what his nationality, culture, or language may be. If in your heart you come to that taste of truth, of Dhamma, then you become like one big family — like mother and father, sisters and brothers — because you’ve tasted that essence of the heart which is the same for all. (From A Tree In A Forest)
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