Fading Story

“If I should die tomorrow, dearly beloved, pray do not grieve for me;

Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice! At last, I am free!

I have cut the knots that bind me, split my chains asunder, leapt joyously into the freedom of the sky

No more imprisoned in the body, I am everything; no more I !

Know that I have been blessed with endless grace

And watched over by gods and angels all through my days.

Your presence and your love have blessed me a thousand fold-

You have supported and cherished me in so many different ways.”Mickey

How long will this story last?

When I am dead, will anyone still visit my blog or  Facebook page or read my  Tweets?

We come and go like passing clouds; all that is left of our bodily existence is a few memories like the faded photographs of ancestors unremembered after a generation or two.

Is this the story we so desperately cling to? Why do we forget, again and again, our roots in the Self and wander like hungry ghosts in the world of the senses, tormented by fear and desire?

The Master’s words fall on deaf ears; no matter how much he exhorts us to remember who we really are, to awaken to our own eternal perfection, our inherent divinity. Why are we so stupid that we repeatedly leave the cool bliss of his protective shade and suffer in the blazing desert of the dream that is the world?

Why do we fall again and again into the traps of intellect and conceptual thought and pride?
 How can we be so blind , when we are blessed to be His devotees, surrounded by grace and love beyond compare? 

Oh sweet Lord of mountains, Arunachala Shiva, why do you not burn up these vasanas that poison us lifetime after lifetime ?  

Again and again we lose our way: will you not bind us firmly to yourself with the silken thread of your love?

I am tired of all the blunders, of  the mistakes of ignorance, of the forgetfulness and the ego-trips and the banal alternating rhythms of pleasure and pain.

O gracious Guru of Gurus, launch your thunderbolt at me!

Destroy me once and for all and let me merge with the dust beneath your feet.