Lately, I’ve been thinking about my own greater glory.  How if I really reach down and pull myself inside out, the students will come.  When the teacher is ready the students will appear. I would not mind the adulation. I would not mind the recognition.

If I’m recognized, it’s because I myself am seen. Recognized by many, who I am becomes clear. Consensus. That many people can’t be wrong.

This is a superior position. I may now divulge the wisdom.

Need to meet expectations. Dress the part.  Name something after myself.

I don’t know if I can look that many ways at once. I can almost see it. But I can’t feel it.

Old-time yogis were outsiders.

Where’s the glory in that? Nobody’s going to step off the sidewalk to let me pass. No interviews. No pictures. No money.

No recognition.

That doesn’t mean I’m not who I am.

Maybe I’ll just find a place to unroll my mat and slap hands with whoever shows up. Take a vow of obscurity.

Maybe that’s already too much.