I ask myself, ‘Who am I?’ But no one answer appears—
just ever-shifting selves emerging from
the swirl of circumstances around me.
Then a vision—all these fleeting contents
have a container, the whole of me, this gift of Being,
unaffected by all the fluctuations of my fate—
like now, for instance.
Gratitude arises, but not an emotion only;
rather, a stance, always appropriate—
while one dimension deeper in,
the container of all that I am
shines forth, sometimes—sparkling but silent,
empty, yet experiencing everything.
A mystery, this core of ourselves,
this elusive gift, always being given,
this doorway to a different kind of life.