I am pure being. Just like a flower in a garden. I am pure being.
What I have been doing is running. Running away from my state of pure being.
When I sit still, in the quiet, in meditation, I am faced with my past, my pain.
I don’t like the pain that lives in the quiet, in the still, so I run away from being still.
Where do I run? It doesn’t matter, so long as I keep running.
I run into doing, away from the being, to distract my mind in the busy of the drama.
The doing, the busy is my addiction, for it keeps me away from being still in the being.
I don’t like the lows, the depression I feel in the being.
So I run to the highs which I get from the doing.
I deny that I am pure being and believe I am the doing; that which I create to keep my mind busy.
I believe I am my thoughts, which are only creations, but I need to be something if not the pure being.
I believe I am my feelings, which are only creations, but I need to be something if not the pure being.
I believe I am my actions, which are only creations, but I need to be something if not the pure being.
I believe I am my body, which is only a vehicle, but I need to be something if not the pure being.
I believe I am my identity, which is only a perception, but I need to be something if not the pure being.
Who am I God? I have lost who I am, in the busy, in the doing, in the running – to no avail.
I convince myself who I am is what I do – but this is a lie, to keep from being still.
So I keep on running, believing in the lie, that I must make something of myself, in the doing, all the time.
Time is so precious, yet I waste it when I run, for Who I Am is in the being, in the stillness, in the sun.