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Touched touching.

Who's the teacher?
Who gets taught?

Walking on a telephone wire,
I DEMANDED service,
of myself;

Yet from another,
I frothed and
finally seized with sense,


The crowd would not believe,
so for a moment I doubted, hesitated,
ran my fingers through my hair and waited.

I felt my money dwindling down,
My life blood growing cold.

The sweat swelled up and smelled bad, awful
so my enemy, terrible, horrible;
My showdow, knew,
I knew, he knew,
I sweat.

I never sweated,
like that before, and it was great, great because there
was absolutely
for it.

I didn't even imagine it,
I told myself.

The past never was, then?
The future is an illusion now?

Only this present.To You, for heaven's sake;

It's at least,
Love, No?

Tomorrow, maybe
It's be like yesterday.

But Today?
We do have today.

Touched touching.


Even the sense of "I am" is composed of the pure light and the sense of being.

The "I" is there even without the "am".

So is the pure light there, whether you say "I" or not.

Become aware of the pure light and you will never lose it.

The beingness in being,

the awareness in consciousness,

the interest in every experience -

that is not describable,

yet perfectly accessible,

for there is nothing else.

would have liked to have said it "myself"

Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj