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Separation is old
New in oneness
Practice reckless optimism
-安天美
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In the midst of drought, beneath sun-baked earth, dormant seeds of tropical flowers await the monsoon rains. Like these seeds, "Separation is old" acknowledges our starting point - in the parched soil of disconnection. We know separation in our bones. It lives in the space between what we feel and what we say, in the gap between who we are and who we think we should be. But even in our most isolated moments, connection pulses beneath the surface. Each time we recognise our disconnection, we crack open like a coconut shell, allowing new life to emerge.
Within this recognition lies profound power. Just as seeds contain entire forests in their tiny forms, our acknowledgment of separation carries within it the potential for profound connection. The old patterns - of building walls, of maintaining distance, of protecting ourselves through isolation - these are not failures but rather the compost from which new understanding can grow.
Think of how a seed must first split apart before it can grow toward light. Our experience of separation, then, becomes not just an ending but a beginning. When we feel most alone, we are actually participating in an ancient pattern of transformation. In our longing for understanding, in our desire to be known, in our courage to reach out despite past hurts - we carry the seeds of unity.
"New in oneness" emerges like the first unfurling of fern fronds - a spiralling dance of individual and collective awakening. Similar to how bamboo groves spread through underground rhizomes, creating dense forests from a single plant. What appears separate above ground shares deep connections below. Our journey toward unity follows this pattern - seemingly individual acts of healing sending nutrients through underground networks of human connection.
This oneness doesn't erase our uniqueness, just as each bamboo dances its own dance in the wind while remaining part of the greater whole. Instead, it reveals the deeper truth: our individual flourishing and collective wellbeing are inextricably linked. When we heal ourselves, we participate in the healing of the whole.
Like morning fog lifting from a valley, this new understanding reveals connections that were always present but previously hidden. We begin to see how our personal choices ripple outward, touching lives we may never meet, creating possibilities we may never witness.
This new way of being emerges when we stop trying to fix each other and start witnessing each other's journeys. It grows in the spaces where judgment falls away and understanding blooms, where our differences become doorways rather than barriers.
To "Practice reckless optimism" is to bloom like desert flowers after rain - not because conditions are perfect, but because blooming is our nature. This isn't the manicured optimism of garden roses, but the unstoppable life-force of wildflowers breaking through concrete. Each time we choose hope in the face of rupture, we create cracks where new life can take root… to love again after heartbreak, to trust again after betrayal, to create again after loss. This isn't about denying pain or pretending everything is fine. It's about choosing to remain open even when experience counsels closure. Like learning to dance with uncertainty, it's about finding rhythm in the chaos, grace in the unknown.
This practice requires the courage of first blooms after forest fires, the audacity of lichens claiming bare rock. It's reckless not because it's careless, but because it dares to believe in possibility when evidence suggests otherwise. The courage to feel deeply in a world that often rewards numbness, to keep believing in connection when separation seems safer. Like the first green shoots breaking ground after drought, it's an act of profound faith in life's resilience.
Consider the dandelion, often dismissed as a weed, yet possessing remarkable wisdom. It blooms anywhere it can find light, transforms obstacles into opportunities, and sends its seeds on the wind to create new possibilities elsewhere. Our optimism can be just as resilient, just as opportunistic in the best sense - finding chances for growth in unlikely places.
Like underground root networks beneath forest floors, self-love creates invisible but essential pathways of healing. When we nurture our own hearts, we strengthen the entire ecosystem of human connection. Our personal healing becomes like morning dew - each small drop reflecting the whole sky, each act of self-compassion feeding the roots of collective transformation.
These networks of healing operate on principles similar to natural systems: what nurtures one part strengthens the whole. When we practice gentleness with ourselves, we become like healthy soil - better able to support growth not just in our own lives but in our communities. Our individual acts of self-care and courage become like nutrients circulating through the social body, feeding dreams of collective flourishing.
Self-love is the foundation for genuine connection. When we stop waging war against ourselves, we become peaceful presences in a world hungry for peace. When we learn to hold our own pain with tenderness, we develop the capacity to be present with others in theirs. The practice of self-love, then, is not selfish but ecological. It's about creating conditions where life can thrive. Like the careful balance of a healthy forest, it requires attention to both individual needs and systemic health.
Just as a single sunflower turning toward light changes the view for those behind it, our choice to remain optimistic creates new possibilities for others. These choices gather momentum like tributaries joining a river - personal acts of courage flowing together into currents of social change. When we choose love, especially after rupture, we become like pioneer species preparing soil for future gardens. To put it plainly, each time we choose love, we make it a little easier for others to do the same.
This is how transformation spreads - not always in dramatic gestures, but in persistent, small choices that accumulate over time. Like the patient work of earthworms enriching soil, our daily decisions to choose love and hope gradually transform the landscape of possibility. Each act of kindness, each moment of courage, each choice to remain open despite past hurt - these become like stones in a river, creating new patterns of flow.
And just as healthy ecosystems become more resilient over time, our practice of optimism grows stronger with each challenge it faces. Every time we choose love in the face of fear, hope in the face of despair, connection in the face of separation, we strengthen not just ourselves but the entire web of life that holds us.
This journey from separation to oneness isn't a straight line but a spiral - we keep returning to similar places with deeper understanding. Like the seasons, we move through periods of dormancy and growth, retreat and expansion. The practice of reckless optimism becomes our compass through these cycles, reminding us that even in dry season, rainy season is quietly preparing its return.
We are all learning this dance together - this movement from fear to love, from isolation to connection, from judgment to understanding. Each time we choose hope, each time we risk being seen, each time we extend love instead of fear, we participate in the world's ongoing transformation.
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<aside> <img src="/icons/backward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/backward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Old Mule's Wisdom
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<aside> <img src="/icons/forward_blue.svg" alt="/icons/forward_blue.svg" width="40px" /> Art of Acceptance
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