Stepping down from the Throne of Catharsis and Taking a Train to Zen
I used to be a person of letters.
I wrote in celebration of love, heartbreak, wishes and dreams. I was never afraid of writing, until I wrote a short poem one day and gave it to my lover. It was ”A Message in a Bottle;” a call of hope. He might be ”the one,” he might have the courage to be ”the warrior,” entering the castle of my heart and knocking down my walls of doubt.
My short poem was about how we choose our words, how we wash them white but wear them black. An eternal karmic dance of our actions and language.
I was young and romantic. I knew it deep down, my belly knew it. Call it the sixth sense if you will, I just never wanted to believe how Satya (truth telling) was—is—the most challenging yama (ethical code) of all. Aparigraha (non-possessiveness) may be even harder. I was desperately in love and afraid of rejection.