Solitude doesn’t disconnect me,
make me feel detached or isolated,
like a fragment that’s broken off from the whole
and craves to belong to it again.
Just the opposite – solitude reattunes me,
softens my separateness, heals my brokenness,
and brings me back into oneness with the whole.
Solitude roots me in my deepest self, like a tree in soil.
And in my rootedness, I stretch down further
and feel my connection to the whole world
and to everything that is part of the world.
Even if my room is small and dark
solitude fills me with space and light.
Even if the streets outside are filled with noise
solitude fills me with stillness.
Solitudes reminds me
that I am never apart
and I am never alone.
The Happiness of No-Self
The self seeks happiness
by collecting more experiences
by attracting more attention
by accumulating more possessions
and adding more achievements to its story.
And whenever it makes new gains
the self feels strong, inflated with pride and power.
But only for a while – soon it shrinks again,
as if it’s full of holes, letting out air.
And then it feels even more fragile than before
and needs new, stronger fixes of happiness.
But real happiness arises
not when the self feels stronger
but when it disappears.
Real happiness arises
when moments are so full of presence
that they are empty of self -
when an activity is so engrossing
when a landscape is so beautiful
when we feel so connected to a friend or lover
when our minds are so quiet and still
that we lose ourselves, in oneness.
Real happiness arises
when there is no one there to feel happy -
just a formless, nameless consciousness
experiencing its own nature.
All best wishes and blessings, Steve
