The Real from the Unreal

  We are an irreligious lot.

   Rudderless, it is hard not to end up exhausted by the frantic, self-serving confusion of activity. When we lose direction, action is imperative. Orienting to our centre, we embrace the practices of yoga; yoking our attention to the breath, studying the wisdom of scripture, being truthful about what is real and what is not.


  In this world of ticker tape gurus, we need to beware of who we follow. When the heart is dimmed or contracted, we need to listen. This is not the way of truth. Truth is blissful, clear and enormous. We are embraced by truth in a giant embrace that holds us all. There is no one left behind, not a single being, not a single soul. If your practice leaves anyone out, beware.

Always practicing balance, cultivating discernment and looking for the taste of one-ness in everything, the yogi abides. Not sallowed by gloom, not excited by hype nor swayed by the judgement of the masses, the yogi sees through to the core of life. Unscathed by one million breathless arguments, small, pulsating, yet immensely strong, is the song of eternal bliss.

   Blink, and you’ll miss it. Smile and you’ll come face to face.