Family Forest

Men became Monks
Not just to meditate
But to moult out of manliness
To moult from mundane to mystic

In a house full of noise
The sweet smell of a homecooked meal
Fragrant flowers from the garden
Running children in beds and sofas
Constant chatter from all corners

In a lush dense forest
The daily grind of insects and animals
An echo of mountain streams and howling winds
Constant caws of the excited birds
Endless sounds and colours all over

In a head full of thoughts
With the occasional call of the body
The high of experience and energy
Constant stories of the past and future
The busiest place on the planet

This sadhana in the home
Feels so reminiscent of the forest
The same sounds, the same silences
The same vines, the same throbbing lives
Just another coloured curtain of the self

Whether the house or the forest
All just a projection of the self

One can only be where they are
Surface dwellers, in the colours and sounds of life
Deep divers, in the eternal silences of the self

All in the same ocean of the self
Just the depth making all the difference