January 2010
114 posts
Butterfly Koan
A butterfly fanned its wings in the gentle drift of pollen floating over its perch on Master Muoga’s shoulder.
Muoga and Pita opened their eyes to the wildflowers simultaneously. The late afternoon sunlight threw dappled shadows into the corners of the glade. Birds sang, trees rustled, cicadas creaked.
“Who are you?” asked Muoga.
“I am Pita. I am Deaf and you have known...
Sitting in satsangh, mind descends to the heart, dives into its surging spring, and is lost, yet awareness remains; I am.
“I have come to realize that it is being unwanted that is the worst disease that...”
– Mother Teresa
WatchWe jus chillin
WatchFrom shining sea to the beaches
WatchPoovar backwaters
