Who is she?
Familiar self thinks it's because she looks old. True nature knows…….whoever “I” am, that’s not it. But then......there is someone......looking back. Smiling when I smile.......puzzled when I am, leaving when I walk away without getting involved with any thought at all while looking in the mirror, there's no puzzlement, just the clarity of knowingness itself.
Yeah, but there's a being there, a creature, someone you've lived with your entire life, know entirely EVERYTHING about, all its thoughts, everything it's ever done, every fart, every kiss; you've wiped its ass thousands of times and bathed it as many; made love to it as only a person can make love to oneself; were there for every embarrassment, every accomplishment, all the disappointments, all the love that didn't work out quite the way it was supposed to.
So, for me, to stand there gazing into its eyes and see how much it feels like a stranger to me, this one whose happiness I am totally devoted to, well, it helps me to understand what a daunting task it might be to take on "getting to know" another.
It’s kind of absurd actually.
For me, knowingness is only knowingness insofar as it
surrounds itself with content to know, were there no one in the mirror, there
would be no knowingness.
Peek-a-Boo Peek-a-Boo Peek-a-Boo who loves you? I do I do.... ps/smoh