maya

Each word I write is a prayer of gratitude to that which comes through me. It is only with this evocation that I may begin writing in the earnest. 

I am a child of the ancient east, a land rooted in such spiritual depth that may not be uncovered in eons of the superficial passing by we have begun to call life.

This esoteric romanticization of that which is mystical by a mind petrified into rationality.

This is maya. 

A student once approached a master and told him he had had an awakening experience. Yet he had forgotten the depths from which he had emerged and wanted to "get back" to them. 

Everything flows, and cycles and grows. Like the vines engulfing concrete. 

And yet this too is maya.

The master told him.

The student came back again after months of study. Having noticed deeply the contours of his mind, with the instrument of his intellect. 

Master, I have seen the purity of this knowledge, distilled to its essence until it can strike a hole through a mountain with its sheer force. I have seen and followed the many ways it contorts and twists and turns, the beauty of the general as it flows through its particulars. 

And this too is maya, my child.

The student watched stunned as the world was once again pulled beneath his legs. 

The student came back many years later. Having given a lifetime to chasing experience - the knife edge of the moment, the pure enjoyment of dancing upon it that has been reserved perhaps only for Shiva.

I have danced with the feminine master. I have let her take me and show me her many gifts, from activating my brain to show me thingsl I could have never imagined imagining to the embodied electricity that flows through my body. The fire contained in the air I breathe, The rock that I must become for her chaotic sea to splash against me. I have given her my all master.

And this too is maya,

said the master with a hint of a curling smile on his face. 

Ashtavakra now finally understood and sat down beside his master. He could now see the monster that had lurked behind the quiet smile. A presence so immense it left him guffawing.

Yet in his final encounter with the full force of the divine feminine he had tasted it too. So the fire burned, stronger than ever before. 

As he sat with his legs crossed, looking up and contemplating the divine with nothing to adorn him but the ashes of the inferno that had scorched the world in its play, He finally felt like a drop in the ocean of Shiva. 

And this too is maya,

he silently noted. 

Namaste.