Sunday afternoon, north wind blowing the wind chimes in rhythmic procession and my mind is lost upon the humming sounds that fill the air. I can see my three crows in my neighbor’s backyard. I don’t know why, but I see three crows all of the time, all over the city. Some times I like to pretend it is the same three crows, sometimes I know it is just three random crows. Some times I realize the those three crows are Shiva, which means that you and everyone and everything I have ever seen are those three crows, they are Shiva.
In those rare moments when I am feeling the universe within my heartbeat I am totally at home. The world is not spinning too fast, not spinning too slow, but everything is in its place, just right. It is as if I can recognize myself in every blade of grass, every cat’s meow, every ripple of wind.
I wonder what it must have been like to be a wondering sadhu in the Indian mountains an eon ago, sitting alone with his thoughts, high up in his meditation cave. Visited only by Lord Ganesha, the devas, all of creation.
I wonder what it is to be that sage today, sitting on my porch, visited only by all of creation.
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