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Finding the self

Updated: Jun 23, 2022

Some days, when I want to find my True Self, it’s like peeling an onion. I go through, layer by layer, looking for access, but I don’t even know what I’m looking for! How did I find it yesterday, or the day before? How did I lose it? What happened to all the breadcrumbs, like quotes from all the masters who are there, lead me to it? Who ate them? Ah, those damn greedy fat doves I saw in the backyard!

That brings back a random memory: My wife and I were playing tennis (doubles) on Easter, one time, and apparently, it was mating season for the doves. They were swooping and diving all over the park. I hit a high lob, and a dove ran right into it. Feathers flew. My wife, a recovering Catholic, said, “Whacking a dove on Easter! That’s not going to bring us good luck.”

Sorting through the thoughts and memories, looking in and under them for the True Self. It has to be there. I’m a pack rat, so there’s lots to weed through. I lose things easily. I lost my passport 3 times when we went to Europe. I found it each time, but it was traumatic. Am I a loser? Well, that’s a topic for another essay.

I often look to one of my teachers for answers. Since I’ve recently lost my Ramana Maharshi book, I look to Nisargadatta: “The question ‘Who am I’ has no answer. No experience can answer it, for the self is beyond experience.” Rupert Spira says, “Our self never really goes anywhere—experience flows through us; we do not flow through experience.” Ah, I think I found it! It was right where I left it.

Losing all the keys

I think I lost them during the flight somewhere. I was holding onto them tightly at the end of the journey, but during the descent, it seems I had to let go of everything.

I don’t always know when I’m a key, a doorway, or when I’m the one passing all the way through.

Sometimes the ripples are endless, falling head first, or being twisted.

I look into all my pockets, then in the pockets of others.

When we leave here, our tumblers are set for certain keys to fit. I’m sure of that.

When we lose the keys, we may find those dwellings that are open, like convertibles, birds’ nests, and Buddha. There need be no keys to climb into them No doors to step out of.

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