Wolf in My Eyes
The power of being alone can be measured
By how well I sit by myself.
Can I sit in a circle and watch my mind
Surrounded by a ring of mirrors that reflect
Me upon me,
Self upon self,
Thought upon thought,
Hope upon hope,
Self-reflection upon self-reflection?
When I sit in this space,
Am I sitting alone with myself?
How alone is this sense of desolation?
Why is it that I feel surrounded,
When I am alone?
I do not see these mirrors that reflect
The perplexed face of a lonesome self.
When I look at myself,
I see a mountain rich in snow and timber.
Gleaming in sunlight,
Wearing clouds like a cape,
Gazing in a clear blue mountain lake.
This mountain—pristine, desolate—
Is happy to watch its own reflection.
Mesmerized by solitude day and night,
Among stars' galaxy of light,
It knows its place as a single mountain.
It knows itself by what it sees.
Crystal is what I see when I sit on my own.
I am by myself,
Surrounded by a world of mirrors.
Among reflections,
Who is alone?
Within perpetual insistence
On independence
Which reflection is independent?
Which lake can separate itself
From the mountain it reflects?
In this play of perception
Lies reality.
What is the lake?
Who is the mountain?
Who am I to sit here by myself,
Thinking I am alone?
Without the lake's pristine reflection,
I would not know I am alone,
Nor what loneliness is.
As summer winds blow, grass bends.
The golden wheat field shimmers.
The sun reflects and sees its brightness.
The world, life,
Is born from its own reflection.
Move,
Eat,
Laugh,
Hug—
Express a simple being
Dancing with its own reflections.
Being alone
Is the beginning
Of loving another.
Sakyong Mipham
