Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle …a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl. And the anticipation nurtures our dream.
It is hard to find a man who has desire for what he has not tasted, or who tastes the world and is untouched. Here in the world some crave pleasure, some seek freedom but it is hard to find a man who wants neither. It is hard to find a man who has an open mind, who neither seeks nor shuns wealth or pleasure, duty or liberation, life or death…He does not want the world to end. He does not mind if it lasts. Whatever befalls him, He lives in happiness.
This Self who gives rise to all works, all desires, all odours, all tastes, who pervades the universe, who is beyond words, who is joy abiding, who is ever present in my heart, is Brahmn indeed. To him I shall attain when my ego dies.
