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The Saffron Robe



The Saffron Robe 

In the marketplace
of the eternal Whole Foods,
a variety spread is laid out:

Māyā and Īśvara,
ignorance and knowledge,
student and teacher,
retreat and reflection

all arranged
along the aisle of Brahman.

From a riot of colors,
the rajasic mind pauses
at white.

“Ātma-jñāna is for the sannyāsī,”
it hears...

and suddenly,
an ancient saffron robe
appears,
algorithmically placed
in the shopping cart.

Who is the true sannyāsī?

The one who wears the robe?
The one who longs for it?
The one uneasy without it?
A quiet panic stirs ..

and then something deeper listens.

Abidance in knowledge
is for the karma-sannyāsī:

the one who paints
the inner chambers of the heart
in silent saffron,

who renounces
the fruits of action,

who releases
the claim of doership.

I sit upright,
eyes gently closed.

I Īśvarize the universe,
and clear the hardened plaque
of the heart
with the steady stent
of nididhyāsanam.

Now,
the flow of life
is unimpeded.

'As though' I have life,
'As though' I am a wife,
'As though' I work,
'As though' I seek,

I renounce the results of actions,
I release the enjoyer, 
and mid way, 
the doer quietly falls away.

'As though' ignorance dissolves.
and what remains
is simple knowingness.

I am sat—existence.
I am cit—awareness.
I am ānanda—limitless love.

Full.
Unbroken.

The aisle remains
abundant, shimmering, untouched
And I,
 no longer a customer.


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