Drawn out of sage-like composure
By the promise of love and loss
Should I return to the wisdom of knowing
Or indulge yet again in the
chaos of Pain and Pleasure
He says “yes” my heart jumps up
Happiness, Joy, Exuberance flows out
He says “no”
Pain, Constriction, Dejection flows in
The in and out flow of emotion
Fueled by external stimulus
Why am I playing this game?
When do I tire of this?
Or is it just a habit so strong
That I imagine I am enjoying it
When in reality I am not…
I watched my face the other day. It has changed, there are lines, more silver strands than ever before. I am going to be 50 in October. The messenger of old age quite vivid in the reflection in the mirror. Every day, every moment I attach and identify, get lost in the ever-changing mirage of life. Often I get so caught I spin an amazing tale to justify the importance of that attachment.
What is it like to really let go. They say you don’t know until you really experience, that which experiences is no concrete self as such. There is only experiencing.
“Self realization is like washing a mud bowl”…?
I have been reading Food for the Heart: The Collected Teachings of Ajahn Chah. Or technically listening as I drive through the streets of Dubai. Dhamma is heard…and slowly… recognized.
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