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~by Rukmini Walker
“For everything, there is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven.” – Ecclesiastes 3:1
I live in suburban Washington, DC. Every seventeen years in this area, around this time, a cousin of the cricket, called a cicada, emerges from below the ground by the billions.
An organ on their bodies allows them to amplify the noise they make. Their collective sound can be so deafening, that if you stand near them for some time, it can damage your eardrums.
If there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven, what is the purpose of a creature like a cicada? In the rhythm and harmony of all existence, they prune the trees, aerate the soil, and once they die, their bodies are a source of nitrogen for growing trees. But really, they are a mystery.
And what is my purpose? Is it also a mystery? Am I meant to live and die with little purpose like an insect?
My time here is also finite. Now that I’ve surfaced in this awakened human form, can I offer my finite time, my finite love to align with the infinite? Can I align with that beloved Supreme Person, Lord Sri Krsna, Who is the source of all creatures great and small?