An early morning walk.
In all appearances there is a someone who walks.
The body of a woman, who apparently climbs over and
dives under tree trunks which are still blocking the road after
cyclone Thane had its fun more than 6 months ago.
Nobody denies that that is what is apparently happening.
Subjectively however; knowing who I am,
there is no one walking.
And gender or even the label human
are not part of the noticing.
And hence do not exist at this moment.
What I am is awareness,
the open space where walking happens.
where birds are flying from tree to tree
where drums of distant villages are heard
where thoughts about a friend in hospital are coming up
where dullness is noticed
where trees and bushes are moving passed
as walking happens in the immovable
immutable placeless place.
There is often an amusement as why
there are discussions about
the personal and the impersonal,
as there is only One.
And in this and as this everything plays out.
Meaning everything we might call
personal or impersonal.
After all they are just words.
Do we first have to demarcate a difference
between personal and impersonal,
and then say that This includes both?
Is that not obvious?
Since there is only One?
Nothing is ever excluded.
How could it be?
But then of course debates about
personal and impersonal, or come to that,
about becoming and being are also playing out
in This and as This.
Awareness mirroring itself in a billion ways.