I was walking down my driveway this morning to fetch the newspaper when I saw the face in the oak tree.
A tree doesn't have a face, of course. A tree doesn't need eyes to see the sky or ears to hear birdsong. It doesn't need a mouth to taste the morning mist. Yet today there was a face in the oak tree.
The face was neither kind nor unkind. It was peacefully indifferent. Serene, equanimous. The tree was indifferent to my pain and my joy, indifferent to whether I lived or died, just as the Earth is indifferent, because no one animal, rock or tree is any more or less important than any other animal, rock or tree.
Perhaps an oak tree only presents its face when it wants to communicate to a human being, a creature insensible to the more subtle language of wind and rain. The oak tree and I were equal. We were the same. The clues to this are everywhere; I was only just now beginning to understand it.