How futile is to insist on pondering day and night that little me, with its limitations, in-any-given-moment-finite skills and finite knowledge, with its pop up worries and guilt, underestimated hopes and various anxieties -
While we can fill our entire consciousness, our thought world, felt world, being and presence with a constant Him - The Perfect, The Sublime, The All-Creative.
In doing so, not even aiming towards it, just as a by-product if you will, that little me is surprised to find itself inspired and empowered, its problems' now met with ever growing creativity, courage, wisdom, truth, love and friendliness... the finite into infinite... possibilities... it could have never come up with by itself.
"I" gladly renounces its "self".
Here on this Place this Moment alone.
Here on Him.
While we can fill our entire consciousness, our thought world, felt world, being and presence with a constant Him - The Perfect, The Sublime, The All-Creative.
In doing so, not even aiming towards it, just as a by-product if you will, that little me is surprised to find itself inspired and empowered, its problems' now met with ever growing creativity, courage, wisdom, truth, love and friendliness... the finite into infinite... possibilities... it could have never come up with by itself.
"I" gladly renounces its "self".
Here on this Place this Moment alone.
Here on Him.
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