I am nobody.
And my story is insignificant.
It weighs less than a grain of sand upon a sandy beach,
yet it weighs me down.
What I do and say, today or tomorrow, does it really matter?
Even these words are meaningless, the vacuous expression of an illusory self.
Even my actions evaporate straight after the deed.
I exist within an empty space.
When I let go of the story I am light and free.
Hermit, recluse, ascetic, mystic...nobody.
So it doesn't matter if I do Ashtanga vinyasa, Iyengar yoga, or any yoga at all.
It doesn't matter if I meditate or pray or chant
or rise at 5am
or eat organic
or make art or money
or travel or teach or work or aspire to lofty spiritual goals
or leave a trail of good deeds behind me for posterity.
Humble is the little grain of sand upon a sandy beach without a story.
2 comments:
We are both empty and full. I think it does matter who we are and how we use our energy. At the same time I, too, feel completely insignificant. This is what drives my practice. I don't seek to erase my self or build my self though both seem to happen at times. I only hope to truly see and perhaps see my self along the way.
Your words sound joyful and very sad all at once. This is what truth seems to be to me lately- open to the vast space and at the same instant observing the grains of sand slipping through the fingers of our own cupped hands.
Yes, one moment joyful, next moment sad.
One moment life is dense with meaning, next moment insignificant.
One moment empty of self, next moment caught up in self.
The fluctuations continue, but as you remind me, all these and more are contained in every moment, all at once.
To truly see...and to see the Truth...what a gift...
Thank you Sarah.
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