My good friend Bob, who loves jazz, worked as a sound engineer for a radio show in his early days. A few times a year we would gather to enjoy jazz, and he would point out to me where the artist had done the work and which parts were legendary, like an Olympic gymnastics judge admiring a beautiful twist that the average person could not understand. I was having lunch with Bob one day and he was talking about the experience of losing yourself in music. That kind of loss does not mean that he will forget the time, forget the appointment with me, but at that time he felt a little bit of self is melting, slowly expanding into an ocean feeling. It was scary, he said, fearing he would never come back, but the feeling of being submerged was comforting. This transboundary moment between being free and being lost is the core of the soul awakening. In our deepest experiences, we tend to hold on to our core, lest we be swept away by the storms of the world's weight. But if we never open ourselves up and allow life to touch and change us, why are we here at all? In the hard life, we have learned to habitually resist the onslaught of burdens and hardships, but at the same time we have also blocked out everything that comes our way. Every tradition of spiritual practice teaches us how to survive suffering and enter into growth and transformation. In those moments, we let go of all self-protection, let go of our tight grip on our identity and experience the shock of the oneness that lurks beneath all things. Although people are used to pushing forward all the time, the peak moments of life -- the ones that change everything and continue everything -- tend to occur in the deep rather than the forward. Opening up the depth of life requires us to look at these sacred moments, which are everywhere: in the music we are immersed in, in the awakening of the truth, in the realization that something mysterious is coming within us. It is at such moments that we can fully feel and savor the omnipresent avenue that gives life to all things. It also requires us to face the contradiction between holding ourselves and losing ourselves. Like a coast constantly being eroded by the sea, we live in the ocean, and the waves are bound to polish off our edges and absorb the nourishment of the living water. To quote Ghalib, a poet I have admired for many years: "For the raindrop, the moment of joy is when you melt into the river." At the moment of being broader than oneself, raindrop does not lose its essence, but gives up its original shape and individual identity. Instead of disappearing completely, raindrop joins a wider world than its original self by letting go of its boundaries. At this moment, the raindrop simultaneously loses itself but expands and continues its existence.

This feeling of being lost without losing our essence happens every day when we experience even the slightest bit of love or suffering. We focus on what we think is important at the time and plan our lives accordingly. We set goals, make plans, and run around. Gradually, we will be controlled by a series of well-planned to-do lists and appointments, and begin to experience something different. We start to get nervous and try to calm down, but the moment itself is an opportunity for change. Should we abandon our goals and plans and return to our hearts? Or resist the call to tap into this deep inner vitality? No one knows which is the right decision. The fact that we are constantly confronted with such questions is a moment of mystery in itself, and a lesson for the soul on Earth. The moments that overwhelm us and at the same time renew us are often like a door, an invisible door which we must open ourselves, and which can only be opened with a sincere heart that will dissolve the barriers that stand between us and life. Open the door to the world; Embracing the experience that comes your way will also open the door; Letting go of your worries in order to cope with life naturally opens the door. Patiently waiting for the muddy water of life to slowly precipitate the Qingming Festival will also open this door. Letting go of your judgements and allowing yourself to look at life with fresh eyes each time is the kind of magical humility that opens everything up. So the next time you find yourself with three more tasks to complete and a voice silently calling to you -- perhaps a burst of sunlight from behind the trees or a moving piece of music that makes you stop and listen -- take yourself back inside for a moment and experience a mysterious moment of spiritual expansion.

With a smile on your face, you can taste the wine of the living river, pick up the work you put down before, put yourself in those very personal but oneness journey with a smile on your face, to experience the moment when you lose yourself but deepen yourself, and with a smile on your face, you can let the raindrops of yourself plunge into the wider ocean. In our deepest moments of experience, we tend to hold on to our core, lest we be swept away by the storms of the world's weight. But if we never open ourselves up and allow life to touch and change us, why are we here at all? A moment of introspection - Describe in your journal a time when something new challenged your definition of who you were and the evolution of your identity. ● In your journal, discuss whether most of your energy was spent on rushing forward or exploring further. Analyze the costs and benefits of each. Which activity do you need to focus more on? ● This is a meditation. Please close your eyes and breathe slowly. Let go of your plans and worries. Take a deep breath and let the things that don't belong to you come to you. Exhale thoroughly and let go of your conclusions, if only for a moment. Quiet yourself and let your thoughts and emotions settle down like mud. Focus on your simple breath and let your heart slide into the water. Relax your identity and allow your existence to breathe into the world around you. ● Open your eyes and notice that you are still you, but the world is closer.

My good friend Bob, who loves jazz, worked as a sound engineer for a radio show in his early days. A few times a year we would gather to enjoy jazz, and he would point out to me where the artist had done the work and which parts were legendary, like an Olympic gymnastics judge admiring a beautiful twist that the average person could not understand. I was having lunch with Bob one day and he was talking about the experience of losing yourself in music. That kind of loss does not mean that he will forget the time, forget the appointment with me, but at that time he felt a little bit of self is melting, slowly expanding into an ocean feeling. It was scary, he said, fearing he would never come back, but the feeling of being submerged was comforting. This transboundary moment between being free and being lost is the core of the soul awakening. In our deepest experiences, we tend to hold on to our core, lest we be swept away by the storms of the world's weight. But if we never open ourselves up and allow life to touch and change us, why are we here at all? In the hard life, we have learned to habitually resist the onslaught of burdens and hardships, but at the same time we have also blocked out everything that comes our way. Every tradition of spiritual practice teaches us how to survive suffering and enter into growth and transformation. In those moments, we let go of all self-protection, let go of our tight grip on our identity and experience the shock of the oneness that lurks beneath all things. Although people are used to pushing forward all the time, the peak moments of life -- the ones that change everything and continue everything -- tend to occur in the deep rather than the forward. Opening up the depth of life requires us to look at these sacred moments, which are everywhere: in the music we are immersed in, in the awakening of the truth, in the realization that something mysterious is coming within us. It is at such moments that we can fully feel and savor the omnipresent avenue that gives life to all things. It also requires us to face the contradiction between holding ourselves and losing ourselves. Like a coast constantly being eroded by the sea, we live in the ocean, and the waves are bound to polish off our edges and absorb the nourishment of the living water. To quote Ghalib, a poet I have admired for many years: "For the raindrop, the moment of joy is when you melt into the river." At the moment of being broader than oneself, raindrop does not lose its essence, but gives up its original shape and individual identity. Instead of disappearing completely, raindrop joins a wider world than its original self by letting go of its boundaries. At this moment, the raindrop simultaneously loses itself but expands and continues its existence.

This feeling of being lost without losing our essence happens every day when we experience even the slightest bit of love or suffering. We focus on what we think is important at the time and plan our lives accordingly. We set goals, make plans, and run around. Gradually, we will be controlled by a series of well-planned to-do lists and appointments, and begin to experience something different. We start to get nervous and try to calm down, but the moment itself is an opportunity for change. Should we abandon our goals and plans and return to our hearts? Or resist the call to tap into this deep inner vitality? No one knows which is the right decision. The fact that we are constantly confronted with such questions is a moment of mystery in itself, and a lesson for the soul on Earth. The moments that overwhelm us and at the same time renew us are often like a door, an invisible door which we must open ourselves, and which can only be opened with a sincere heart that will dissolve the barriers that stand between us and life. Open the door to the world; Embracing the experience that comes your way will also open the door; Letting go of your worries in order to cope with life naturally opens the door. Patiently waiting for the muddy water of life to slowly precipitate the Qingming Festival will also open this door. Letting go of your judgements and allowing yourself to look at life with fresh eyes each time is the kind of magical humility that opens everything up. So the next time you find yourself with three more tasks to complete and a voice silently calling to you -- perhaps a burst of sunlight from behind the trees or a moving piece of music that makes you stop and listen -- take yourself back inside for a moment and experience a mysterious moment of spiritual expansion.

With a smile on your face, you can taste the wine of the living river, pick up the work you put down before, put yourself in those very personal but oneness journey with a smile on your face, to experience the moment when you lose yourself but deepen yourself, and with a smile on your face, you can let the raindrops of yourself plunge into the wider ocean. In our deepest moments of experience, we tend to hold on to our core, lest we be swept away by the storms of the world's weight. But if we never open ourselves up and allow life to touch and change us, why are we here at all? A moment of introspection - Describe in your journal a time when something new challenged your definition of who you were and the evolution of your identity. ● In your journal, discuss whether most of your energy was spent on rushing forward or exploring further. Analyze the costs and benefits of each. Which activity do you need to focus more on? ● This is a meditation. Please close your eyes and breathe slowly. Let go of your plans and worries. Take a deep breath and let the things that don't belong to you come to you. Exhale thoroughly and let go of your conclusions, if only for a moment. Quiet yourself and let your thoughts and emotions settle down like mud. Focus on your simple breath and let your heart slide into the water. Relax your identity and allow your existence to breathe into the world around you. ● Open your eyes and notice that you are still you, but the world is closer.