Life uses us and does not care how we feel about it. It lives through us, as us. We object and resist, or concur and are pleased – it makes no difference either way.
Only when we surrender our will, and along with it our notions of identity, can we touch our real life, and enter it, and taste at least a little more intimately what it is to be alive. As so many masters said on their awakening:
“Now I am like a person who drinks water and knows for themself whether it is warm or cold.”
Happy New Year,
Henry