Our culture has become accustomed to self-reflection, with a small "s" on self. The practice of swaadhaaya, the study of the Self according to ancient sage, Patanjali, with a large "S," is less popular. The capital letter denotes a person, place or thing whose nature is divine.
This week, while I muddled through the challenges of keeping it together as a mother, and not, I threw water melon at my kid. I meant to throw it, but not at him, and in my madness, it slipped out of my hands and got him. It was a moment of break-through realization that I need not lose it like that, and that I was caught like a fly in my small "s" self.
We become so obsessed by our small "s" self - body, mind, intellect, ego, that we feel separate from every other small "s" self, and even from all the events that connect every other one. We are stuck in a moment that no longer exists. Perhaps that's because we haven't learned to do swaadhyaa, study the Self that is common to every being, that is alive and fully present in every moment.
It's a snake eating it's own tail.
A cosmic loop.
The full moon.
A repetitive joke.
Low lying cloud,
sky kissing the ground.