Who Am I?

Who am I if I am not worshiping the desires of my ancestors?

Who am I if I am not admired by you?

Who. Am. I?

I am the one in whom stillness is her greatest gift, who hears the birds trilling in the winter morning, the one who nearly weeps with delight at the babbling brook being perfect in its babbling.

And yet I am none of these things. I release the desires of my ancestors. I release my desire to be admired. I am the eternal now.

I AM.