At night, I open the window and ask the moon to come and press its face against mine. Breathe into me. Close the language - door and open the love - window. The moon won’t use the door, only the window.
Direct the mind resolutely towards God, restraining the senses in their various seats, and looking on the state of the body as a matter of indifference. Realise your oneness with God, remaining continually intent on identifying with its nature…for what use is there in other, empty things?
Come behold this world, which is like unto an ornamented royal chariot, wherein fools flounder, but for the wise there in no attachment.
This Self who gives rise to all works, all desires, all odours, all tastes, who pervades the universe, who is beyond words, who is joy abiding, who is ever present in my heart, is Brahmn indeed. To him I shall attain when my ego dies.
