The Quest of the Insatiable Ego

Osama is dead.

Every inch of the USA celebrates. Those who don't stay underground.

 

Here in my warm and comfortable house, I can remind myself that this is all an illusion, a grand drama played out by our egos. But if I stood, baby at breast, homeless on the streets of Kabul, rioting and destruction all around me, would I then as easily employ the elephant ears of Ganesh—the remover of obstacles, the revealer of illusion—to whisk this all away as fallacy?

If I slid into a burka on the streets of Cairo, veiled in form but not in thought, would I perceive as clearly? This illusion was built, stone by stone, collectively, by all of us, no matter how passive or aggressive the agreement. It is now up to all of us, stone by stone, to destroy this illusion, to lift up and above, to unanswer the call in the quest of the insatiable ego.

I awake from the dream and realize that if I can light a spark of Truth, of absolute Love, in the heart of the baby clinging to my breast on the streets of Kabul, then I have lit the same spark in the heart draped in Burka
and the heart, here, 

in me.

in me. 

in me. 

in me.