Confessions of a Transformational Coach

When I speak of transformation, I speak of death.

My death.

Intense experience of peeling, dying every day

The ego dies. Familiar comfortable forms die.

I have been dying for years now. And every time I die I leave behind all that I illusorily believe I have.

I leave behind my respect, position and patronage in the name of religion (dharma).

I leave behind all that I acquire (artha).

The desires, the lust, the craving and raving (kama) I leave.

And I even leave behind the possibility of liberation (moksha).

Not that they go away. They are where they were.

I leave behind my association with them.

I leave behind the begging and with it the sense of ownership of the begging bowl.

As I die every moment, every breath, every day

I leave behind a part of the ‘me’, that which is not who I Am..

The Eternal Beggar

For the sake of your fun You made a destitute out of him And witnessed it all Laughing, to the brim He wanders Begging for love Door to door Gathering alms Filling the bowl Not asking for more Till you come in the way To snatch away The beggar’s treasure - To your great pleasure - For him to stray All the way

An eternal beggar He thought he was In life and death In effect and cause Till one day - Having lost every farthing He comes Fretting and sweating To your ring You give him space to sit On your own throne Garlanding him With your Love - The Eternal Light That always shone And anoint him The King!!!

(A poem from my collection, The Drop, written by me, inspired by Tagore’s immortal melody – Ere bhikari shajaye.)

Ere bhikari sajaye 

As I write this confession for you to read and hope fully relate I resonate deeply with The Prophet –the confessions he made just before his departure:

Brief were my days among you, and briefer still the words I have spoken.

But should my voice fade in your ears, and my love vanish in your memory, then I will come again,

And with a richer heart and lips more yielding to the spirit will I speak.

Yea, I shall return with the tide,

And though death may hide me, and the greater silence enfold me, yet again will I seek your understanding.

And not in vain will I seek.

If aught I have said is truth, that truth shall reveal itself in a clearer voice and in words more kin to your thoughts.