Yes Soup for You
I thought the story, soup to nuts, was me.
The comedy and drama of relationships.
The interest or tedium of work.
Even the witnessing of beauty in some natural setting.
I thought the ups and downs, my thoughts, emotions, all were me.
They're mine, but they're not me.
They're in my mind, but they're not me.
And dust to dust.
They're made by me.
I made them crazy out of ignorance.
I made them sorrowful because I knew not I was making them.
I made them bitter knowing not I was the cook.
I used ingredients I didn't know that I was using.
I made an awful soup of things not knowing.
Not knowing I'm in a greater soup.
Not knowing I'll never know that either.
Not knowing I had to give up knowing.
Float within the greater soup.
Float within the greater soup of consciousness.
Float within the greater soup of universal consciousness without the knowing.
Knowing I will make my soup of things taste any way I want to.
Knowing I will let the universe prepare my soup's ingredients.
Knowing that this soup is never me.
Knowing that this soup is just a bubble that I blow while floating in the greater soup which is unknowable.
Which is the soup I am.
~Son Rivers 2007
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