Even here

Even here

Remembering my own birth, I know how it felt to fall to earth.
It feels like falling from a clear, soft lightness, to heavy molasses.
It felt sticky, labour-some, and most of all, suffocating.
What was instantaneous in the world I came from, takes ages to develop here.
One thought there, takes years to develop here,
and usually only few people have the discipline to stick to an idea until it manifests.

Impatience was my companion.

But even there, in that time of impatience in that slow, cumbersome world,
there was this beauty present everywhere.
I found it in nature most easily.
Humans seemed strange to me all the time, covered in mud of prejudices, concepts and dogmas, even me.

While digging deep into meditation in the Ashram, the Presence was all-pervading.
But a person was there all the time, the sense of I.
My practice started in a childlike manner, and I dived deep passed all obstacles immediately.
Nothing was easier then letting go.

While learning for school, while studying, growing up, from where I came, my family…
Even here, this continuous thread, that combines all these stages, that sense of awareness, of Presence.

In the warm embrace of a hug, in the sweet kisses of my loved one, in her laugher and her tears,
even here, no one there to take it personally, only one that pervades everything.

A long way have I gone, and in this going, there lies its secret, nothing to take personal here.
In loneliness or in pain, even there, nothing to avoid.

Nothing has ever been taken away from me, nothing ever added.
I am that which one calls the one that is more then the sum of its parts.
Aware of that organism, Brahman as some may call it, nothing is mysterious anymore.

There is no separate identity called I.
It is an image on a screen, the snake in the night that turns out to be a rope in the sunlight, a castle in the air.

Nothing has ever been taken away from me, nothing ever been given.
Adding wholeness to wholeness results in wholeness.
Adding infinity to infinity, infinity remains.

Indulging in this awareness, what appears as this person called me, is a play on a screen.
The screen is real, the play on is not.
We identified with an image like a lover, and became lost in it.
The result is the experience of separation and pain.

And yet, even here, lies great beauty.
Nothing to avoid,
neither joy nor tears.

Even here,
nobody is present.


About Bhusunda

My blogs: http://andersalsesscheint.wordpress.com https://bhusunda.wordpress.com http://sanskritstudiesblog.wordpress.com http://skripteditor.wordpress.com
This entry was posted in Article/Artikel, Experiences, Poems/Gedichte. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Even here

  1. Bob OHearn says:

    Beautiful writing, my Friend, Thank you for sharing the recognition! ❤

  2. Bhusunda says:

    Thank you Bob, you are most welcome! 🙂

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