A Glimpse of the Journey

A Glimpse of the Journey

And at last, with that final push, the baby girl slipped out of her mother’s womb.
The baby girl came out wailing.
Piercing, wall-shattering cry
The baby girl smiled.
What could pierce her heart more and what could shatter her walls more
Than this escape, this liberation from that dark, watery tomb?
She opened one of her eyes.

And at last, with that final fight, the baby girl slipped out of her partner’s clutch.
The baby girl walked out muttering.
Powerful, moving words
The baby girl smiled.
What could be more powerful and what could be more moving
Than this escape, this liberation from that tight, almost skin-penetrating grip?
She opened one of her eyes.

And at last, with that final prayer, the baby girl slipped out of her God’s embrace.
The baby girl crept out thinking.
Vivid, dramatic images
The baby girl smiled.
What could be more vivid and what could be more dramatic
Than this escape, this liberation from that cold, almost senseless touch?
She opened one of her eyes.

At last, at last
But it didn’t last for long.
She got it all wrong, had it all wrong.

What was this escape, this liberation from the dark tomb
The tight grip, the senseless touch?
How did the baby girl taste the taste of escape, feel the feel of liberation?
She only tasted it for the moment.
She only felt it for the moment.
She did not have it in her wanting hands.
The baby girl never had it—even for a moment.

But at last, she opened both of her eyes.
She opened her mind.
She opened her heart.
And finally she saw the light in the dark tomb
Felt the gentleness of the tight grip, the movement of the senseless touch
What could be more piercing, what could be more powerful
What could be more vivid than this realization?

What cry, what words, what images can depict
The permeating peace within her, the permeating beauty within her?
Tears of joy
Words of encouragement
Images of only images
That peace, that beauty from such realization is that tear, that word, that image
The baby girl describes this and that, distinguishes this from that. 

At last, at last
But it didn’t last for long.
She didn’t get it quite right, didn’t have it quite right.

What was this peace, this beauty borne out of her second escape?
It was the baby girl’s idea of peace.
It was the baby girl’s idea of beauty.
It was not enough.
There was so much more to all this, the baby girl learned.
There was simply so much more…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
And in that dream, she took a leap.
She literally took a leap—an endless fall it seemed to be.
The strong wind pressed against her skin, the rainfall trickled up her body.
There was now fire burning within her. She wanted to set foot on the ground.
And then there she was.
Her feet firmly on the ground

And at last, with those new pair of widely-opened eyes, she hoped to become one with her mother
To become one with her partner, to become one with her God
One with the wind, the rainfall, the fire, and the ground
All these and everything else were her, and she was all these and everything else.
Her feet are firmly on the ground, and she is still on her way to see the world—to see herself—in a different light.

Yes, the baby girl is still hoping and still desiring for the most illuminating part of the light.
She has yet to mature; she has yet to grow up.
But truth always remains. 
Brahman is one.
That without It, nothing would exist
Brahman is the Absolute Reality.
Brahman is Atman.
That Atman is her innermost self
That Atman and Maya are one and the same
That their separation is not real

How overwhelming, how great these truths are for the baby girl!
She is the flower, and the flower is her.
She is the mother, and the mother is her.
She is the partner, and the partner is her.
She is Brahman, and Brahman is her.
What could help her more, what could enrich her more?
The baby girl smiled.

Appreciation for the birds chirping cheerfully in the morning
Gratitude for the works of art in every nook and cranny
Understanding amidst the seemingly chaotic streets
Compassion amidst the seemingly cold shoulder of the Earth
What else could fill the baby girl’s soul with happiness and serenity
Than this genuine positivity?
This positivity that floats above everyone’s hands, waiting to settle in each fingertip?

The baby girl is a drop of water in the deep and vast ocean.
She has always been that drop.
She mingles, mixes, disappears in the waters.
Everyone and everything else is a tiny drop.
They have always been.
They mingle, mix, disappear…
Strength. Unity. Goal. Ripples of water.

The baby girl listens closely.
She hears the waves crashing violently.
The winds are roaring mightily.
Countless drops of water are flying outwardly.
She looks, and sees herself—a drop of water—above the ocean.
The vast ocean reflects the lightings up above.
Moments of separation. Moments of ferocity.

But truth always remains.
The baby girl is a drop of water in the deep and vast ocean.
She has always been that drop.
She mingles, mixes, disappears in the waters.
Everyone and everything else is a tiny drop.
They have always been.
They mingle, mix, disappear…
Ripples of water.

The baby girl smiled.
…only then will she turn into a woman. Only then will she truly be.