There is a sacred flower that blooms in the valley of the heart.
In the deepest corner, under the sharpest rocks, enveloped by thorny bushes, this beautiful flower stays hidden, even from the most prying eyes.
It stays shrouded in secrecy and eagerly awaits the summer of grace.
On the rare occasion when it blossoms, its radiant petals glow resplendently. Its sweet fragrance drenches one and all. The most drenched of all is the flower itself.
But beware of your actions!
Every breath of anger smolders its petals. Every glance of prejudice injects poison into its veins. Every jealous thought, every greedy endeavor and every act of competition brutally plucks away at the petals and crushes them. The rocks around the flower are stained with pockmarks of crushed petals.
Each stain is a story of fall, every pockmark a memoir of treachery.
In pain, the flower weeps silently in agony.
Time and again the flower silently endures one crucifixion after another.
Life after life it redeems itself in the hope that, one day, the sun will dawn in the valley of the heart.
This sacred flower is the soul.
Finally, the blessed day comes. The day, when the grace of Transmission touches the flower. The soul comes alive and radiates again. After eons of drought life finds a way.
The journey of love begins.
Every small step along the way enlivens the soul. One step after another and the heart begins to melt away. Small drops of gratitude slowly form a rivulet that begins to chip away at the rocks and wash away the thorns.
Drops merge and the rivulet becomes a raging flood.
The flood of gratitude ennobles love.
A heart full of love grows in reverence.
The reverent heart yields in submission.
In the deepest impulse of submission comes surrender.
The highest pitch of surrender creates merger.
When the heart is melting, thoughts become imbued with love. Thoughts imbued with love become the vectors of Transmission.
When such thoughts become words, they become heart speak.
They resonate with the inner most being of the listener, and then the miracle happens.
Yet another flower blossoms!
In this way meadows after meadows are filled with blossoming flowers.
The simple act of meditation makes all this happen.
Speak with love, think with love, and melt away each moment in gratitude.
Create this flood within and drown in it.
Oh miracle maker! Did you meditate today?
Article by UDAY KUMAR
