When I was a kid, I got a carton full of wood sticks and
nails.
I spent my childhood till now to create a perfect box out of
it.
Now, there is a box in front of me. I created it. I am its
master.
It is perfect from each side, from each corner.
I start bringing in things to fit it. Some fit, some do
not.
I try putting in clothes, folded, they all settle. Unfolded,
they all are jumbled, making the box look unclean.
I try putting in water, but it recedes through the gaps in
the box.
I try putting in sand, but gradually it recedes
through.
Crazily, I try putting in all my stuff at once.
Frustrated, I blame the things not fitting in.
The box is the illusion of reality I had created for
myself.
My fears of experiencing everything perfect made me obsess
with the box.
I focused on fitting everything in that box.
I centered my life on that box.
Happiness equated to whatever could fit in that box.
That box became my identity.
I felt happy and related to what could fix in it.
I felt unhappy, depressed and dejected when things could not
fit in.
Before long, I began feeling and thinking on behalf of the
box.
Became defensive of it.
Then one day, I was taken away. The box was dismantled and
given to another kid to play.
The box is my illusion, my unreal identity.
As children, we get wooden sticks and nails to play.
We end up making boxes and carrying them around as
ourselves.
No.
There is no box.
Stop skewing reality and deciding what to put in the box to
feel the happiness.
The box doesn't feel.
The box doesn't exist.
Feel the pain of breaking the box before you are taken away
and the box dismantled.
That which within you does not feel threatened
That which within you does not feel insecure
That which within you remains calm
That is you through Him. That is you who knows The Truth,
The Reality.
That is you who doesn't need a box outside to accept and
reject.
Here is a box in front of me.
Its painful to think of its nonexistence.
I blink and it disappears.
I feel Myself Real.
No comments:
Post a Comment