… drive you crazy.
Take It Easy
The Eagles (1972)
Good yogi that I am, I can talk the talk.
I am proceeding at a high rate of speed from the anamaya to the anandamaya. I slap myself hard every time I catch myself being judgmental. I wake up in the morning with the dharma on my mind. I want everyone to become more spacious. I don’t think about my problems (or yours) – I sit with them. I pray for you.
I get more authentic all the time.
Could my practice tighten into self-reference? Like Narcissus blown away by the beauty of his own reflection? After all, we have seen yogis with big practices come untethered. Not understanding why they are misunderstood.
Could I get so involved with my own lightness of being that I start to float away like a soap bubble?
If I kept showing up in a loin cloth holding my begging bowl, I would get it. I would understand. But after a while everybody else would start getting pissed off.
For all I know the baby in that stroller is eons my elder. The tramp in the alley could be on his last birth.
And we who are yet less than we can be are nevertheless wondrous.