Belonging to the Mystery
I find it endlessly curious, this human tendency to seek belonging, to place ourselves into neat little boxes and tidy labels. We long to name ourselves, to be known, to define the undefinable. Yet, time and again, I find myself slipping through the cracks of these definitions, the words falling short, the edges too sharp. What is it I do? Who am I, in relation to this work, this life? It’s a question I’m asked often and one that always leaves me fumbling for words. Not for lack of trying over the years, but because the essence of it—of me—feels elusive, too intangible to be pinned down. How do you put words to a feeling, a presence, a knowing? How do you define that which is both so deeply personal and utterly universal? How do you put words to something so wordless, timeless, spaceless, and most of all—ever fluid in its mysteriousness? It’s an act of love to even try, though I find the effort often reveals more about what I am not than what I am—In terms of words at least. A nonduality teacher?—at least as they are conceived of in these modern western times. No, not quite. I’ve…
