mystery

You know what disappears in all this explication of the self? Mystery. Demystification is a force for good in many ways. But there is another level, that ineffable one, where it’s pointless to talk. My friend who took too much acid lives there now (I sometimes think). But even after a bunch of meditation, what are you going to say? There’s nothing to say. And the greatness lies in cherishing the secret. So the art seems disjointed and doesn’t make any sense..? That’s because, in between, there was transformation. Transformation that some can see, and others cannot detect. You live that mystery when you try to own it loud and proud. On a more subtle level, there is nothing to own, nothing to defend, and nothing to do. Hmmmm. Who got anything out of that, show of hands? Hi Deepak!