For so long I confused who I Am with this lump of food for mushrooms
called "the body," and what it eats.
For so long I confused who I Am with a stream of air entering and leaving
these lungs made of dust.
For so long I confused who I Am with the words rattling in my skull, with
a story that has no beginning or end, a tale told, not by an idiot as
Shakespeare said, but by nobody.
For so long I confused who I Am with a little glittering star, a "soul," that
seemed to shoot from past to future on its noble "path." But path and soul,
future and past, were just thoughts in a ghostly agitation called the "mind."
And with this "mind" I confused who I Am.
Now on a quiet Sunday morning, I am ready to ask, "Who Am I?" I am ready
to listen. I am ready to hear a raindrop dripping on an alder leaf at dawn.
And what does the raindrop say? "Even as you perish and dissolve into the sky,
you reflect an infinite sun in your heart..."