Now that it's midnight
I'll tell you a secret.
You are the candle,
God is the moth.
May your evening meditation weave the stems of Chandra Nadi and Surya Nadi, the lunar nerve and solar nerve around your spine, into flower offerings for your Guru.
Tonight is Guru Purnima, full moon of July, full moon of the Guru. And who is the Guru? Not the one with 10 million devotees, or only 10. Not the one with a beard and white robe, or the one in blue genes. Not the one who is brown or the one who is white. Not the one who gives you a mantra, or the one who gives you a kiss.
The real Guru is the one who awakens the radiance of Guru-tattva, the Guru Principle, in the core of your own heart. Filled with that radiance, freedom, and bliss, you begin to see Gurudev in the eyes of every stranger, every foreigner, every shelter dog, every cricket. You scent the Guru at the center of the rose.
And it is to this Guru who awakens the diamond Self that I bow down, offering my silent gentle teacher a garland of braided blossoms, flowers of moonlight and sunlight, spiraling up the trellis of my vegus nerve. This Guru does not draw me to some distant ashram or exotic garden, but turns my own body into a garden, my mind into the clear blue sky, my breath into the name of God. Jai Guru Dev.
Rose by Kristy Thompson, of course
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