Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Humble Musings Of The Manhattan Monk 4/17/11

I am not a great philosopher
I am not an inspiring preacher
I am not a trustworthy handyman
I am not a devoted seeker of knowledge
I am not a very interesting person, full of adventure and vigor
In fact, I have very little to offer at all, from this broken body and mind

What I do have, at least, is a sense of compassion for myself, to be pursuing this path, serving the servants of the Lord, and trying to melt my stone-heart. In this way, by the natural course of things, I will learn to express and give the gift of mercy that I have been given. Let me become Your instrument.

Actually, when we boil it down, our life becomes compelled towards its natural nature, its attraction for the pure, sweet, dynamic, ecstatic, fulfilling, invincible love of Shyamsundar. The moment we begin to turn towards this, we are swept up by a tidal wave which ruins our petty, lost thoughts and speculations, our mental gymnastics, our blows for our false pride, and our sense of the bitter and selfish.

Into the eye of the storm, the inescapable whirlpool of nectar
It is the culmination of all aspiration, a Love tasted in drops and then waves, our whole vision and our whole being finding its perfection in our embrace with Him. A fervent compulsion that pushes every inch of our being towards the only reality, the only framework that matters.

Real compassion is also a compulsion of our devotion. It's not just a side-note, a stepping-stone. Its the essential foundation for the responsible, progressive, dynamic, loving devotee.

It's no use getting teary-eyed for your old hipster coat. This is my imbalance. Can I develop the vision and the courage to go deeper than the person I'm used to being? The comfortable is often the contemptible. I should be learn not to be afraid to shake myself up for my ultimate good, and I begin by holding an even keel, a patient gaze, and a tough but soft heart when my own habitual pillow gets unstuffed.

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