I said to the almond tree, 'Friend, speak to me of God,' and the

"I said to the almond tree, 'Friend, speak to me of God,' and the almond tree blossomed." These words, spoken by Nikos Kazantzakis, carry with them the depth of ancient wisdom — a wisdom that speaks of the unity between man and nature, the divine and the earthly. It is a call to recognize that God does not reside in some far-off, unreachable place, but in the very essence of all that surrounds us. The almond tree, in its simple, humble existence, holds the divine within its branches, just as we, in our quiet moments of reflection, can come to recognize the divine within our own hearts.

Kazantzakis, a man of great vision and insight, understood that God is not something distant, something to be sought only in places of worship or in sacred texts. He understood that the divine speaks to us through the simple, ordinary things of life. The almond tree, with its fragile beauty, becomes the symbol of this connection. To ask the almond tree to speak of God is to ask it to reveal the truth of the universe — the truth that is found not in words, but in the silent blossoming of life itself. In that moment, the tree’s bloom becomes the answer, a living testament to the sacredness of all things.

Consider the ancient wisdom of the mystics who, much like Kazantzakis, believed that God was not confined to the heavens, but present in the smallest details of the world. They saw the divine in the earth beneath their feet, in the sky above them, and in the gentle breeze that brushed their faces. One need not look far to find the hand of God — it is in the song of the birds, the whisper of the wind, the flicker of the stars. God is not something to be sought in distant places but is within all that we encounter. To see this is to see with the eyes of the soul.

Look at the Sufi mystics, who in their love for the divine, saw God in every particle of creation. For them, the world was a mirror, reflecting the beauty and presence of the divine. When Rumi spoke of love and union with the divine, he was not speaking of something abstract, but of a direct experience, an intimate relationship with the sacred that exists within the world. Just as Kazantzakis spoke to the almond tree, the Sufis danced with the whirling dervishes, communing with God in the movements of their bodies, in the rhythms of life. For them, to experience the divine was not to retreat from the world but to embrace it fully.

This, then, is the lesson that Kazantzakis imparts: we need not look to distant heavens or high temples to find God. God is here, in the blossoming almond tree, in the rise and fall of the tide, in the quiet moments of our lives. Just as the almond tree blossomed in response to a simple question, so too can we find the divine in every moment, every act, every simple gesture of living. It is not a matter of seeking but of recognizing — of seeing the sacred in the ordinary.

Let us, then, seek to live with this awareness — to see God in the small, everyday things. Pause for a moment when you walk through the forest or sit beneath the tree. Ask not for grand revelations but for a simple communion with the divine that is already present. When you greet another person, see them not as a stranger but as a reflection of the divine. Let every breath be a prayer, every step a journey toward a deeper understanding of the sacredness of life. Speak to the world as Kazantzakis spoke to the almond tree — and in return, you will hear the world blossom.

And so, we come to this final teaching: the divine does not dwell in far-off places, but in the very essence of creation. To ask the almond tree to speak of God is to acknowledge that everything is sacred. Live in this awareness, and the world will reveal its beauty to you. The divine is not distant — it is within you, it is in the tree, it is in the blossom of each moment. Let every moment be an invitation to experience the divine, and in that experience, you will find peace, joy, and a connection to the eternal.