“I’m learning to stop chasing golden butterflies that never land.” The everyday mysticism is the only real spirituality isn’t it. Your lines remind me of the absurdity of the faux monk in me who earnestly wants deeply moving encounters with something large, all the while knowing that grasping never brings rewards. Sitting inside the simple breath in the company of other seekers, on the other hand, sometimes lands me unexpectedly in that comforting meadow. Me trying to get something special to happen bears no results. Me letting go of those efforts sometimes brings the reward I sought. This is a very slow lesson for me. The Teacher must get exasperated.
“I’m learning to stop chasing golden butterflies that never land.” The everyday mysticism is the only real spirituality isn’t it. Your lines remind me of the absurdity of the faux monk in me who earnestly wants deeply moving encounters with something large, all the while knowing that grasping never brings rewards. Sitting inside the simple breath in the company of other seekers, on the other hand, sometimes lands me unexpectedly in that comforting meadow. Me trying to get something special to happen bears no results. Me letting go of those efforts sometimes brings the reward I sought. This is a very slow lesson for me. The Teacher must get exasperated.
You are such a treasure and a teacher in this very lesson!
I think you've just written my new anthem Tim. And certain I'm not the only one. Thank you.