I ache as a mother aches when she holds an ailing child.
I ache at the suffering of those I have loved all over the world. Like children, they won’t listen!
If emotions remain our tools wielded with a craftsman’s skill, they remain wonderfully sweet poetic sentiments and make life a moonlight on the lake. When they put a noose around us, a bridle in our mouth, and we follow them around and chase after each one of their faces and phases, we are bruised. They become an addiction, with all its symptoms and consequences. Loosen the nooses and undo the bridles; do!
Declare your independence of them. Let them follow your commands.
Wherefore is your ocean running after ripples? There is a place in you which is a reservoir of strength; draw from it as a thirsty person would draw from a sole water well in the desert. How? How? Did you ask “how” to suckle at mother’s breast at your first hunger? What is this howl of hows I hear everywhere! Knowing is in you.
I wish you the enjoyment of your fulnesses, not dwelling on vacuities. May you look within your depths and be filled.