Devotion

Devotion to your own true nature is the highest form of devotion.

(Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj)

Consecration.

Enchantment.

Vow.

An intimate fidelity of the heart.

A love that does not waver.

A listening so deep

it becomes belonging.

Devotion does not begin with doing.

It begins with hearing.

To hear,

not merely with the ears,

but with the whole being.

To let the Names,

the songs,

the stories of the Real

enter the mind

and soften it.

What seems passive is,

in truth,

a powerful initiation.

For what we listen to,

we become.

Holy sound reshapes the inner world.

Sacred listening

plants seeds

that grow

into character,

into longing,

into love.

To hear those who have remembered

is to sit in holy company.

And holy company

awakens yearning.

Without yearning,

nothing is born.

The soul becomes restless for God

not through effort,

but through proximity.

As discernment

awakens,

the heart

begins to know:

what is eternal and

what is passing.

And when the mind

reaches for the unreal,

the heart gently

draws it back.

From hearing

arises song.

Voices

gather.

Names

are sung.

The many

become

one breath.

Whether

alone or

together,

chanting

draws devotion

out of the chest

and into the world.

Sound

becomes

flame.

Flame

becomes

remembrance.

And remembrance

follows us

everywhere.

Devotion

is not escape

from life.

It is the way

we meet life.

To remember

the Divine

in the midst

of struggle,

in the weight

of responsibility,

in the battlefield

of becoming,

this is the true practice.

No life

is free

of adversity.

But devotion

steadies

the heart

so storms

no longer

rule it.

There is no

“later”

for remembrance.

Those who wait

for calm waters

never enter the sea.

Life

is fleeting.

Time

devours all forms.

So devotion

does not delay.

It takes refuge now.

To remember

while acting.

To hold

the Eternal

with one hand

and the world

with the other.

And when

the moment

allows,

to hold

the Eternal

with both.

Remembrance

deepens

through repetition,

a name

whispered,

a mantra

breathed,

a prayer

offered

without performance.

Prayer is not eloquence,

it is sincerity.

God hears

the longing

beneath the words.

Even broken syllables

reach Home.

Devotion

strengthens

when will

joins grace.

The Name

purifies,

but the heart

must choose

again

and again

not to return

to forgetfulness.

Fall,

rise,

vow

again.

Devotion

is not perfection,

it is fidelity.

It also takes form

as service.

To serve

the living

as manifestations

of the Divine.

To feed,

to heal,

to teach,

to awaken.

The highest temple

is the human body.

The clearest image

is the living soul before you.

To serve another as God

is to touch the feet of the Infinite.

Devotion also bows.

Not in humiliation,

but in humility.

To prostrate the ego

so the Light within may rise.

To remember:

without the One,

nothing stands.

Devotion wears many faces:

Stillness.

Service.

Friendship.

Childlike trust.

Lover’s surrender.

Master and servant.

Mother and child.

Beloved and beloved.

Until all roles dissolve.

Until only offering remains:

the giving of oneself entirely.

Atmanivedana.

No bargain.

No remainder.

And then devotion ripens

into intoxication.

Nothing is lacking.

Nothing is lost.

The Divine

carries

what we need,

and preserves

what is real.

This is devotion.

Not duty.

Not fear.

Not ritual.

But a life

slowly,

willingly

returned to Love.

Yo lo Creo/

I believe, and so it is.