A fistful of sand is all that life is, at any given point of time and that sand is meant to slip away forever. Until you pick up another fistful and so life continues. The fleeting moments the sand is nestled in your palm is the only reality that is yours to claim, once it slips away it will never come back. It drops down to the beach and becomes one with the vast sands of the shoreline, unrecognizable in its individuality. You may try to take another fistful but it will not be the same, even though the anticipation of a better fistful awaits, once this is lost, the loss does sting in ways you do not imagine. The fear then arises, maybe the next one is not as good, and then the excitement what if it is greater than you ever can imagine. Both cannot be trusted, because all you have is a fistful of sand.
A fistful of sand, nestled lovingly in your palm, A fistful of sand, your only posession, A fistful of sand, you grip so tightly lest you drop it, A fistful of sand, that slips away faster the tighter you hold it, A fistful of sand once dropped, impossible to find, mixes seamless back into the mounds on the shore, A fistful of sand, you once loved with so much passion, A fistful of sand, you loathed and hated at times feared and regretted, A fistful of sand, that shone your true potential, A fistful of sand, that introduced you to the shadow within, A fistful of sand, that is All of life’s promises, so less yet so limitless. - Thorvi M Damle
When we look at life carefully, a fistful of sand is all that it ever promises. The given point in time that we breathe, that point may be love, hatred, lust, greed, envy, friendship, fear, elation, success, loss, gain or failure, ecstasy at one moment and fear at the next. Mostly this fistful of sand is reminiscing memories of times gone by or what may not even be memories but our perception of events. At times immensely meaningful and at times wasteful nothing, at times filled with pride and at times shame and guilt. At times it is the stillness of meditation and at times the cheers of a crowd, whatever it is, it is just a fistful.
The point is not that same old, glass half full outlook, it is the always fistful outlook, the intent is to live each fistful with open mind, body and heart. The tug of war between desires and reality leaves us in an inertia of sorts. The challenge is accepting the outlook, to practice detachment with the fistful at the same time immersing oneself in the experiencing. I think the condition is called ‘Stithapragnya’ in Sanskrit, a pretty high goal set by the creator.Are you up for the challenge? Because whether we like it or not that seems to be the whole point of our existence.
How would you imagine yourself in that state? Imagine looking down from above on your current life and you in the complete state of balance and detachment, what does being “Stithapragnya” look to you? I imagine myself walking alone on the lovely sea shore, the waves lapping gently on a quiet full moon night, the skies bathed with the moonlight and stars far away in the galaxy, a cool breeze caressing my face as I walk along in silence, me and my fistful of sand, practicing immersion with detachment. Share yours in the comments below, would love to know.