Today I had my favourite drink, a hot chocolate after a long time.
It brought to the surface a big mixed bag of interesting stuff – sweet memories, deep gratitude for them, grey sadness, fluffy lightness of moving forward, slight heady elation, steeliness of the spirit, solidness of love and more inexplicable textures, threads and filaments of some new and some old shreds of fabric from here and there.
Of late I have been trying to be aware that every time I say – ‘I’, ‘Me’ or ‘Mine’, it’s really my ego speaking and not the real me. My story, my family, my friends …….. Who is the real me? I am not my body, my mind, my various roles, my peculiarities or anything that anyone else might describe me as. It’s the ego that feels the pain as it identifies with all these things and tries to fool me into doing the same. I am nothing but the deep silence within with no name, form or identity.
“Normally we do not like to think about death. We would rather think about life. Why reflect on death? When you start preparing for death you soon realize that you must look into your life now… and come to face the truth of your self. Death is like a mirror in which the true meaning of life is reflected”. ~ Sogyal Rinpoche