"That which is the finest
essence--this whole world
has that as its soul. That
is Reality. That is Atman.
That art thou."
--from the Upanishads
Good morning.
That art thou. That art thou. I'm really fighting this. I don't like the thought that I am the soul of the world. I am that which is the finest essence.
Boy, the rebuttals are abundant and eager, they are crowding my mind. Everything but this. Anywhere but here. No, I'm not! NO. NO. NO. Wah! wah! wah!
Why the fuck does it even matter? I should just go cruise the park, forget this plan I had, from before I was born; the reason I came here, the reason I arrived at this moment, the reason I am writing this to you. There are many places to run, lot's of geographical cures, a million pretty boys, a trillion moments to scatter in the wind.
Soft-voice: I am the soul of the world.
Ridicule: Who the fuck do you think you are? What the fuck gives you the right? Huh? (Long silence) ...yeah, see? I knew it. You jerk. You asshole. (Mockingly); 'I yam da soul udda world!' You make me sick.
Soft-voice: (Gently); You are the soul of the world.
Ridicule: What are you, nuts?
Soft-voice: You'll be OK. Come on...
Ridicule: (Pause); Get lost, you fairy!
Soft-voice: (Smiling); Let's go.
Ridicule: Go where?!
Soft-voice: Into the next moment, together.
These are not the easy days, but then they weren't meant to be. In adulthood, our traumas, relative to our experience, have diminished. But the sense of drifting, numb, ever deeper into unawareness, makes these days the most anxious.
The Land We Left
Naomi Shihad Nye
How far is it to the land we left?
On the first day of his life
the baby opens his eyes
and gets tired doing even that.
He cries when they place a cap on his head
"Too much! Too much!"
Later, the whole world
will touch him,
and he won't
even
flinch.
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