The trees in the forest were the closest friends of my soul in my life. If I sat quietly beside them, I could listen to the stories they heard from stars, wind, and clouds somewhere. We often hear stories of giant trees uprooted by heavy rain and typhoons somewhere, countless houses and people swept away by disasters, places where volcanic eruptions and shooting stars fell, and stories of stars happening across many universes. It was extremely difficult because I could not accept that it was a reality, not a dream. At first, I doubted myself out of fear that I had become a strange shaman, but now it has become part of my daily life in my secret forest, and I am very happy.
They always seem to stand motionless in silence, but to protect the lives of all breathing wells, they silently operate the massive life engine of carbon assimilation, endlessly dedicating themselves without wishing for anything, and live beautiful and blessed lives. Just as the TONGLEN monks of Tibet heal the corrupted themselves, uninfected by any harmful virus, and heal the sick solely with the healthy energy they emit. That's right. The forest is a temple for meditation in nature.
I was healed by the phytoncides and calm caresses of the tree that had accumulated over a long life, making it impossible to control my anger, and restored both body and mind. Even now, I walk shoulder to shoulder with beautiful trees, sending praises to them.
In quantum physics, we are called a single magnet that breathes and lives. All living things in the world emit electromagnetic wavelengths and communicate with qi through mutual attraction through positive and negative influences. Moreover, in plant science, which is the spiritual world of plants, I have always been interested in discovering various proofs through experiments that trees are wells that cannot walk or move, but also think and have emotions, which has led me to continue my studies.
I became convinced that the Quilia science, which I had once studied out of curiosity and called the science of consciousness in the future, was precisely this kind of communion. I felt the connection between the senses that came from the tree's spiritual world and the pure consciousness evoked by my thoughts, and understood that matter and human consciousness are quantum field interactions. Although Eastern Qi philosophy theories follow a similar pattern, the changes in human joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure flow intertwined with vitality on top of the fundamentals of Yin-Yang and the Five Elements, making it somewhat different in complexity and complexity.
One day while living like that, at the lumber shop, their bodies were cut and torn in different shapes according to human use, and the grains of dried wood like tendons and nerves on exposed flesh suddenly overwhelmed me, unlike when I would watch them thoughtlessly around me. They writhed, jutting out like carved veins or arteries, and the black knots and blood-stained eyes seemed to speak with tangled patterns that sent an inexplicable chill. I became convinced that the grains of each tree were like a record of life, written down in the unique characters of the trees like secret codes. Not a single line of grain in the frozen wood was exactly the same, and I could tell that every single line of wood grain was different, as if the fingerprints of hundreds of millions of people were all different.
To figure out what they wanted to tell me, I moved to my studio, spread out wood-grain plywood, and tried immersive meditation.
What exactly did they engrave on their bodies so they wouldn't be erased forever.....
Those textures mysteriously seeped into my heart as waves of empathy.
One day, the shape all those grains painted was the ever-changing winds created by the Earth's rotation.
In time with the sound of waves on the sea, the rustling of tree leaves, birdsong, insects—all living sounds in the forest—become harmonies and become instruments in the orchestra, engraved with a grand symphony score of nature. I still vividly remember that Beethoven's Nine Symphony took over me around that time. The mysterious and beautiful rhythm of nature shook with chills, shaking and awakening both body and soul.
Yes, the grot was a score about eternity, written like a monk in the long silence of a magnificent tree.
Then, following the rhythm and flow of that wood grain, I became a seamless whole, searching for images,