We have no meaning without context. Each of us maintains the context that gives us meaning. What happens when we dare step out to a context of no context? Is it even possible? Is this what all the spiritual paths mean by dying to self?
We fear that if we step out of the snug cocoon of context we have woven about ourselves, we will die. And we will. Without context, the self we know, the self we wear like comfortable pajamas (even though at times it is a hair shirt) will disappear.
We fight to maintain our context, the text by which we abide. We make our living with our context. We get through the day with it, snug in its bubble.
Like missionaries, we look to sell our context to others while preferring to think we are giving it away,
Like dung beetles, we prefer to sit in our context, enjoying its sweet aroma, so happy to have a home.
We fear that if we step out of the snug cocoon of context we have woven about ourselves, we will die. And we will. Without context, the self we know, the self we wear like comfortable pajamas (even though at times it is a hair shirt) will disappear.
We fight to maintain our context, the text by which we abide. We make our living with our context. We get through the day with it, snug in its bubble.
Like missionaries, we look to sell our context to others while preferring to think we are giving it away,
Like dung beetles, we prefer to sit in our context, enjoying its sweet aroma, so happy to have a home.
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