Funny thing happened today.
I released yet another label.
How interesting the ego is. How amusing the small self. (There, there small self. I mean no disrespect.)
I have been known (often) to complain about labels. I feel so boxed in by them. And Goddess forbid someone else label me.
For instance, some such labels by friends and others: Shy. Strong. Brave. Bitch. Young grasshopper. Stuck up. Shining. True. The list goes on. And on. Forever. Some nice and flattering. Others… not so much. For one that runs from labels, I, too, give myself a lot of them. Mother. Wife. Teacher. Witch. Poet. Yogi. Designer. Again, the list goes on.
Some of these titles are obvious, and only too natural. (Well, of course I’m a mother.) Even in my introduction to “me”, the title page that holds this blog, I fill your mind (and my own) with labels. This is who I am. See. This. That. These things. Are me.
I have been rebelling against these things my whole life. Identifying them with ego, but not fully seeing the action of identifying itself as ego.
Silly girl. Oop. Another one.
Here’s the thing. Labels are not bad. Neither is the ego. There is a comfort in it all. And we humans often rely on our comfort.
So what label have I released this time you might ask?
That was a big one. Crazy big. I’ve held on to it FOREVER. It has always held such power, such grace, such simple truth. And then all of a sudden (as happens with most epiphanies), it was gone.
I’m still adjusting, but quite relaxed about the whole thing. Relieved even.
How utterly bizarre. Yet… liberating.
Terrain of the blissfully unexplored.
I have not lost anything. I still am, and everything continues to flow as I continue to walk my Path.
There is a Sanskrit mantra: Ham Sa. I am That.
That. Everything. Divine. God. Goddess. Spirit. Every. Thing. That.
It is the label that is absent of labels.
Let the ego play with that irony for a while.