Lovers, love, consciousness, witness
An ancient story.
Two friends long ago spent their days together. One friend was a skillful harp player, and the other listened skillfully.
Whenever the one played a song about a mountain on the harp, the other would exclaim, “There it is-the mountain whose song you play!”
And when the harp was singing of water, the listening friend would shout, “Here is the very river!”
So did their days pass until, at last, the listener grew ill and died.
The friend cut the strings of the harp and never played again.
Uncounted years have passed, but still to this day, the cutting of a harp’s strings is a sign of true friendship.
Ask yourself,Who has loved me absolutely without fail, without faltering, without the slightest judgment of my qualities?
Who listens to my song?
Who loves every experience, every emotion, every thought, every sensation I create so much that it all is completely accepted without question?
Who sees as real what I manifest?
Who is my audience, my fan, my admirer, and my great lover?
Who never leaves my side no matter where I go, no matter what I do, no matter what I say, no matter what I feel, no matter what mistakes I make?
Who watches me even to my last breath, my last thought, and my last sense of individuality?
Before whom do I do all these things completely without shame, without secrets, without the slightest qualm of having this companion at the worst moments of my life?
What does my lover see in me?
What is my lover’s name?