Thursday, 26 September 2013

The Finger That Points To The Moon

A postcard from Malta.

Soft cello music filled my apartment, undulating with the soft, cool morning breeze. 
Fingering my books soft, broken spine, I look at the Taoist shelve, with interpretations of the ancient Chinese classic, the I Ching. 
There was the Taoist I Ching, the Buddhist interpretation, the classical one, as well as a version with Biblical lines and interpretation. 
I was interested in the Taoist study, and so, I take the book in my hands, and it feels like shaking hands with a forgotten friend of long ago.

I smell the years in it, and notice my penciled notes, on the margins. 
I smiled softly, and together, with the breeze and the music, went back in time. 
But suddenly, I put it back, and take another one, and another one, like a frantic reader, looking for something, within the pages. 
I put everything back on the shelves, and sat down on the cushions, and let the music and the breeze be my only companions. 
I was immersed in the music....

The music stops, and I could only hear my breathing, and feel my heartbeat. 
I was me again, in the Now moment, the ever-present moment. 
I realize, I cannot read these books again, because I have changed...yes, I was not my past. 
They do not belong to the present 'me'...they do not talk to me anymore, only because, now, I am different.

They were only the finger, pointing at the moon. 
Why get fascinated about the finger or the hand that is pointing at the moon? 
I realized, it was always me after all...
I was the finger, the pointer, and the moon. 
A quantum reality, which cannot be expressed linearly.

When the sun comes up, we do not need to carry the candles anymore to find our way. 
When we awake, we can only remember the dream we had during the night.

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