I had never considered chanting a mantra until one picked me. It didn’t just pick me once, but tapped me on the shoulder daily for weeks, then months. I would sing it like a pop song, albeit one I didn’t know all the words to.
This is how I knew we belonged together.
Nothing is ever really ours (especially a mantra that has been chanted by millions of people over centuries). But all of us have been picked by something, or someone.
You may not know that you were chosen. But look again. That strange song that won’t go away. That person whose gaze burned into your eyes. The desire that leaves you powerless to its realization. Lean closer and listen — there is wisdom to be gained, in either its presence or its absence.
