The Womb of the World
The Womb of the World The Earth as the great maternal vessel where souls gestate in matter There are mornings when I wake and feel the pulse of the Earth through the soles of my feet — slow, ancient, wordless. It is not merely ground beneath me; it is a breathing body , and somewhere deep inside, I sense that I am being carried still, cradled within a vast, living womb . The soil, the rivers, the air — all of it feels maternal, as though existence itself has drawn me into its warm interior, asking me to grow in silence, to mature in shadow, to prepare for a birth that is yet to come. Sometimes I wonder if we ever truly leave the womb. Perhaps birth is not an exit but a deepening, a descent into layers of form. The body is another chamber , another membrane of mystery through which consciousness must pass to learn what it means to be both finite and infinite. The world — this dense, fragrant, trembling organism we call Earth — might be the first and last mother, the one who re...
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