Duality

Duality is the dream of distance.

He who sees all beings in his own Self, and his own Self in all beings, he does not hate anyone.

(Isha Upanishad)

Our suggestion for reading "Duality":

"Asatoma Sadgamaya" by Mooji Mala and Radha

It is an ancient mirage,

the one telling us

there is a self here

and a world out there.

A seer and a seen.

A lover and a beloved.

A wound and a healer.

Our Minds keep making precise cuts,

and then we forget

that it holds the blade.

Beneath the naming,

beneath the defending,

beneath the distinction,

beneath the separation,

beneath the cuts,

beneath the divisions,

there is something that is never divided.

Life keeps whispering this to us.

In beauty that undoes us.

In grief that breaks us open.

In that knowing within.

In that love,

where the one who loves,

disappears.

There comes a moment

on the path

when seeking itself

begins to fall away.

Not because

the world vanishes.

Because

its apparent distance does.

What we called “other”

begins to shimmer

with the same interior light.

What we feared.

What we desired.

What we tried to control.

All of it

begins to glow

from within

as the same mystery

wearing different faces.

Different mouths.

One silence.

And so

the spiritual life

becomes less a climb

toward perfection

than a surrender

into what has always

been true.

We do not need

to do anything

to become divine.

We need only

stop insisting

that we are

separate from it.

This is not the end

of trembling.

It is not the end

of uncertainty.

The heart

still quivers.

The body

still aches.

The mind

still forgets.

But something deeper

begins to bow.

A softer courage

appears.

The courage

to breathe

in magnificence

and not demand

more.

The courage

to stumble

into beauty

and recognize yourself

there.

The courage

to walk peacefully

with the unknown.

The courage

to hold every hand

because there are no strangers

left.

Real devotion

is not escape.

Real devotion

requires participation.

It is saying yes

to this breath,

this day,

this incarnation,

this fleeting

and holy form.

It is bowing

at the altar

of the ordinary

until the ordinary

begins to blaze.

You are not only

the child.

You are not only

the mother.

You are not only

the lover

or the beloved.

You are

the field

in which they arise.

Great

and small.

Broken

and radiant.

Wave

and ocean.

The kiss

and the one

receiving it.

There is a place

beyond the mind’s dividing

where all identities loosen,

where all distances collapse,

where even fear is gathered back

into belonging.

And there,

perhaps for a moment,

perhaps forever,

you remember:

I am

not apart

from Life.

I am

inside

its song.

I am

written

by its hand.

I am

carried

by its breath.

I am

returned

by its silence.

And so

I open

my heart.

And so

I surrender

unto Thee.

May you remember

that what appears separate

has never been alone.

May you walk

gently enough

to hear the silence

speaking through every form.

May you bow

at the altar of this day

and find the Infinite

waiting there.

May your heart open

without demand,

and your life become

a song of joyful love.

Yo lo Creo/

I believe, and so it is.