What is this subtlest form of deception?
What is this promise that my bliss in this moment,
that my fullness in this moment,
is a guarantee of eternal salvation?
What is this longing for a wholeness
that only the "other" can provide?
The other with his firm grip,
his sweet words, his knowing demeanor,
his emotional intertwinement?
And where exactly is this perfect other,
the one that I "find" in every brief connection,
the one that I try to seduce with my "profound words",
with my "heartfelt yearning"?
And why is it that he keeps shape-shifting?
Now the understanding and invested husband,
now the attention-rapt student,
now the perfect spiritual community,
now the book that will "change my life".
How pervasive, how mysterious, is this dreaming of mine.
I dream that perfection, that endless bliss,
is in my grasp--or is out there somewhere.
What a baffling thing to believe, when only my whole life--
a series of sweet chases, of cotton candy promises--
has proven me wrong.
Yet still I chase and still I believe--
because, of course, this time will be different.
And still I find myself, and still I betray myself,
and still I praise my limited sight as vision.
And thus turns the wheel of samsara.
And so now, this begs the question:
how do I hop off the wheel?
Do I jump aside in the moment that I begin chasing a fantasy?
Do I strive to cut down every illusion mercilessly?
I can try.
Do I argue with my insanity, try to beat myself sane?
Do I create the "perfect state" internally:
a state that I can rest in, a state complete in itself?
(If only it could sustain!)
No. I can only stop a moment, and ask (honestly):
Can I love the one who is on the wheel?
Can I have some tenderness?
Can I let her spin and spin,
until she tires and willingly returns home?
And can I hold her in my own arms, in her own arms,
knowing that she has never left?
Ah yes. Perhaps this is a beginning.