A four-armed flutist took me to the blue avatar: stone-blue monkey, whiskers silver, broken beads silver-- paint dashed by the artist on cheap paper. Bought for a few annas, God kneels, looks left. Intense concentration. His ink hands rip open his chest, pull skin aside like a velvet curtain-- Rama and Sita alive at his core. And what devotion shall my flesh show, and my broken-open breast. His blueblack tail flicks upward, its dark tip a paintbrush loaded blue.
First, come into the present. Flash on what’s happening with you right now. Be fully aware of your body, its energetic quality. Be aware of your thoughts and emotions.
Next, feel your heart, literally placing your hand on your chest if you find that helpful. This is a way of accepting yourself just as you are in that moment, a way of saying, ‘This is my experience right now, and it’s okay.’
Then go into the next moment without any agenda.
They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.