Confessions of a Transformational Coach

Confessions of a Transformational Coach

When I speak of transformation, I speak of death.
My death.
Intense experience of peeling, dying every day
The ego dies. Familiar comfortable forms die.
I have been dying for years now. And every time I die I leave behind all that I illusorily believe I have.
I leave behind my respect, position and patronage in the name of religion (dharma).
I leave behind all that I acquire (artha).
The desires, the lust, the craving and raving (kama) I leave.
And I even leave behind the possibility of liberation (moksha).
Not that they go away. They are where they were.
I leave behind my association with them.
I leave behind the begging and with it the sense of ownership of the begging bowl.
As I die every moment, every breath, every day
I leave behind a part of the ‘me’, that which is not who I Am..

The Eternal Beggar

For the sake of your fun
You made a destitute out of him
And witnessed it all
Laughing, to the brim
He wanders
Begging for love
Door to door
Gathering alms
Filling the bowl
Not asking for more
Till you come in the way
To snatch away
The beggar’s treasure –
To your great pleasure –
For him to stray
All the way
An eternal beggar
He thought he was
In life and death
In effect and cause
Till one day –
Having lost every farthing
He comes
Fretting and sweating
To your ring
You give him space to sit
On your own throne
Garlanding him
With your Love –
The Eternal Light
That always shone
And anoint him The King!!!
(A poem from my collection, The Drop, written by me, inspired by Tagore’s immortal melody – Ere bhikari shajaye.)
As I write this confession for you to read and hope fully relate I resonate deeply with The Prophet –the confessions he made just before his departure:
Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words I have spoken.
But should my voice fade in your ears, and my love vanish in your memory, then I will come again,
And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak.
Yea, I shall return with the tide,
And though death may hide me, and the greater silence enfold me, yet again will I seek your understanding.
And not in vain will I seek.
If aught I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice and in words more kin to your thoughts.
  • nat
    Posted at 11:08h, 03 March Reply

    This is good. I liked reading it.

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