Below is a beautiful poem from Rabindranath Tagore that I heard read by Wayne Dyer in an audiobook. It resonated with me and particularly there is an aspect that lacks hope. The work needs no help, especially from me, however I felt a compulsion to address the hopeful reality of our situation.
Below is the poem Who is this form Rabindranath Tagore and even further below is my respectful response.
I came out alone on my way to my tryst.
But who is this that follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the earth with his swagger;
he adds his loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, he knows no shame;
but I am ashamed to come to thy door in his company.
– Rabindranath Tagore
But what he is, is only mind
and seeking nothing we will find
with practice he is left behind
to learn to love with like and kind.
This sounds so easy, and it is
but ego presents challenges
with sneaky tricks and clever ways
to add to it some countless days.
To gently listen to his voice;
despite the drama and the noise
and upset feelings that we feel
we must observe them reel by reel.
With discipline and focus clear;
that voice becomes harder to hear.
Though it will try and sometimes win
that’s why we call it practicin’.
The tools we think that we’re all needing;
mantras, yoga, maybe breathing.
But tools are pointers this is said
Reminding us they should be shed.
It is the state and not the tools
lest we be trapped like silly fools
Identified with practice crutches
we shall remain in pointers’ clutches.
The answer of the ‘Who am I?’
is up to the beholder’s eye.
But this is just what does ‘appear’
One cannot burden who’s not here.