Atmānanda- Laharī

Mother Lode Mother Lode shining brightly beyond space and time. A baby cries incessantly: “Let me out. Let me out.” Compassionate Mother releases the jīva. I custom-order my cap and gown. I custom-order my salad, with no dressing. I build a stone wall within the heart. I separate myself from the Mother. I create my own imaginary world. I forget the original building blocks: Sat-Chit-Ānanda. I receive a subtle body of seventeen things. I become the body, the mind, the résumé, the house, the car, the job, the achievement. I go deep into academentia. I forget I am Free, Timeless, Eternal. Instead, I constantly explore for more FTE. I project. I identify with the reflection. I identify with the reflecting medium. I mix things up. I create confusion. I add color to the painting. I add complaints. I superimpose limitations upon the limitless. Then comes the dawn of knowledge. I retract the projection. I drop the identification. I let go of the desires. And suddenly, I don't see the silly...

I Am the Light Lit up is the open-air amphitheater Worldly objects ready, the eager greeter The audience cheers for their noble seater Ego, the King, dressed as the sweeter. Intellect dances in thought’s great storm, Spinning in spirals of mental form. Sense-objects follow, take the stage in norm Yet light remains, untouched, warm. Identity theft is quietly dealt “I” mixed up, with this and that No center left, everything is felt Illusions bind in sorrow’s heft. Self-knowledge guards like firewalls tight, Banishing ignorance with steady light. Truth prevails in purity bright Panchadashi’s flame lights the night. I am the Light—beyond ego’s frame. I am the Light—free of thought’s game. I am the Light—untouched by name. I am the Light—forever the same.