Shells

It was a shell that broke out when we came out to this world. Lying bare and naked in the universe lacking the comfort of the womb. But it was we who pushed the boundaries of the womb, becoming restless for an escape. And we cried to the world how hungry we are, desperately seeking the comfort of love.

Solace in the mother’s breast, feeling the warmth of life. “Yes, I am not alone” — a feeling that we yearned in the thirst of separation. And we cling to our mothers, parents, and they push us away being tired. “Go away, I love you but you are not in the womb anymore.” The first shell is broken, and we wander in the world in separation, seeking love and comfort from where we can find.

Comfort in the first pet, in first girlfriend, in first bedroom, in first identity. Comfort in God, in beliefs. Yes, I saw old men still yearning and seeking, in 60s, in 70s, an unending pursuit to fill the void of separation.

And the wise one in the mountain, sits alone, calmly and he knows never is he really alone. For in flesh, he might be alone, but in spirit he is not. It is the second shell, a shell that will break out, not the one with umbilical cord, but a veil that has shadowed his perception from this world to a greater reality.

And he becomes free, free from his pursuit to seek. To wander for belongingness, for he is already belonged.

The shells are broken, in one life or many. Never alone, always belonged, and he spreads the seeds which are not born of flesh.