I was once a tree – a large banyan tree. I lived a hundred years. During all those years, I witnessed, but never participated, never judged, never thought, never felt – neither happiness nor sorrow. I was to be a tree – I was being one.
Once, another time, I was a dog. I searched food, I sought affection, I defended my territory, I scared strangers. I felt loved at times, at times I raged with anger. I wasn’t like a tree; because I wasn’t a tree. I was a dog and I was being one.
And now I am a human. I want, I like, I try, I think, I feel, I cry, I celebrate, I compare, I analyse, I plan, I do, I strive, I struggle. They say, “Why do you become? Just be.” I say, “That’s what. I’m just being – being human. Wanting to become is a part of my being. It’s a part of my being today. Tomorrow it may not be. Do you want me to become – become a tree or a dog?”
How can I become? Isn’t it an illusion if I think I can? I can just be. There is no other way.