Against the vastness of the never-ending sky, the clouds are on their way to somewhere.
It seems everything on Earth is moving and acting with great certainty. And yet, the human in me is contemplative and often uncertain.

When observing the sky-piercing peaks, constellations of trillions of burning stars, and the fire-blazing horizon welcoming the sun, the eye wanders, and the mind questions existence. As if the sky itself is staring back, asking, ‘And who are you?’ There is a revelation—the body appears to be a speck of dust. Who am I? The veil is lifting as the flesh is immersed in the immensity. The eyes keep wandering. Scared? Yes. Surprised? Definitely.

We cannot experience awe without fear. It’s the unfamiliar and the unimaginable that entice the human spirit.

On the edge of one unfolding begins another mystery. The body is always in search, mingling with another body. Is it the lungs or the leaves? The skin or the sun? We are entangled and attuned to grow in cycles we cannot recall.

How can we revere what is forgotten? Reverence is not passive. It’s an act—a doing of the body.

The primate is devouring the fruits and dispersing the seeds. As if a message is hidden in the ripened and moist substances, compelling the devourer to scatter the seeds. Nature takes over and enters the body. Is it known to the primates that they are keepers and co-creators of the forest?

If yes, it is a wonder—and if not, it is a wonder still!

It cannot be known where the skin ends and the landscape begins. The physicality is enmeshed with the spirit. The language, the religion, and the intellect—all the intangible fruits that we perceive to be ours—run in the roots of the tree of life. A force of oneness, singularity, setting planets in motion and germinating seeds from sleep.

Under the black, brown, and white skin, the blood is red. What is the colour of the Earth? Blue as the sea and sky, green as the trees, brown as the soil, white as the snow, and black as the night sky. All needed and connected, in ancient rhythms of nature.

What if we saw humans as landscapes?

The shape of the land changes as the shape of our emotions—an intermingling of grief and love.

After the flood, plants wilt, yellowing as the roots gasp for oxygen in the soil. In earthquakes, the mountains shed parts of themselves in landslides. Apparent disasters teach patience and compassion, but there are other disasters that only the heart sees—shattering, nerve-wracking, twisted, and unbearable.

Perhaps we are scared of and for humanity. But why is it so?

Polarisation, colonisation, war, separation, speciesism, and ecocide. How can we move from here? How can we revere the Earth when we struggle to glimpse at the reflection of ourselves distorting the natural world?

The wise man, also known as Homo sapiens in Latin, is an infant. Only a human, still learning.

Fragile beings with tender hearts and gentle hands—and there is a resemblance in lashes that grow like petals and close at night like daisies and dandelions. The psyche of nature is everywhere, beyond reason. Even the strongest of us are only moved by emotions, like clouds by the wind.

How can we revere humankind?

Even if the heart struggles and the mind is not prepared, even in this conflict, life will always revere life. It will ask us, Will you seek it once again? Go find a reason to be a part of something bigger than yourself. Humans have always done so.

The fear in awe is not because we are constrained within a tiny being. The sublime entices us, reminding us we are not who we think we are—we are much more. Perhaps nature, perhaps the universe, perhaps the sky gazing back at itself.

Who are you? it’s asking once again.

Words by Priyanka Singh Parihar,

Founder and Editor-in-Chief