Autonomy… so essential,
Almost…
Almost above all else.
For even if we have great longing,
Without which, we are mere thinkers,
But lack autonomy…
Our longing can be poured into the mould,
Of another's experience,
And more dangerously, still…
Their interpretation of their experience.
Buddha, Jesus, Ramana,
Any historical or contemporary teacher…
Their experience was theirs,
And their interpretation, as well.
Ancient lineages assert,
With fierce certitude,
Their unquestionable authority.
But these, too… are interpretations.
We can revere and honor,
The teachings of others,
And the many blessings they hold,
Without becoming subservient to them.
We can take what resonates,
And leave what does not, respectfully,
However revered the teacher,
However ancient the lineage.
We can take and leave, as well,
Our own interpretations
Of the experience we have come to,
And what it all means.
Head and Heart, ever-open, ever-free,
We need not seek to grasp or hold,
Or plant a flag along the way,
Declaring the summit attained.
In each new experience,
In each new revelation,
We dawdle for a time,
In all that is revealed.
At each new milestone,
Each new vista come upon,
We celebrate for a time,
The gifts discovered.
Until… if we are blessed,
The Unknown calls to us,
And we wander, again…
Into the Great Mystery.
We are moved,
Without intention or volition,
To walk, in Wonder and Awe,
At the glories of each ever-new step.
Autonomous and free,
Unbound by stances and views
Held by others, and…
By our self.
