We’re Talking About Practice

Are we, perhaps, the sperm of Shiva, the bulbil of Brahma, the roe of Vishnu?

How is it that among the million, I have this chance to be in existence? What am I to do with this gift?

Having arrived, I am unsure of why I’m here. If i’m suppose to return back to the Eternal Mother and Father, why did I leave in the first place? How does leaving something that I need to return to serve a purpose?

Human consciousness can sometimes feel like a B rated movie. Lacking depth, vaguely entertaining, with the odd moment of spark and curiosity, enough to prevent you from turning it off so you watch till the end, but you’ve got a funny feeling it won’t be satisfying. Are we watching the same film, or do I have it on repeat?

Do I have privilege to ask and do I deserve to know? Is life an insurmountable predicament of unsolved questions or am I just looking in the wrong places? Is God a riddler of games and gambits, that I don’t entirely know the rules to?

I guess this is why we’re asked to practice.

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