maya the mink

The modest mink named Maya stood on the mossy bank of the raging river, her sleek fur ruffled by the cool breeze. The river raged, a tumultuous symphony of rushing water and clashing currents, but she had learned to stand high enough on the bank to observe from a healthy distance. Her keen eyes surveyed the scene, giving her a panoramic view up and down the river's winding path.

From this vantage point of neutral noticing, Maya could see the river's ever-changing nature. Sunlight danced on the water's surface, creating a dazzling display of light and shadow. The occasional fish leaped from the depths, a fleeting silver flash against the blue-green backdrop. Maya's whiskers twitched as she took in the moment: Earthy scents, wet stones, and fresh, cool water.

She knew with every fiber of her being, that if she were pulled into the river of chaos, she would lose her higher consciousness to the relentless grip of fear and the suffocating embrace of victimhood. This would inevitably lead her back to merely managing her life and surviving the tumultuous events that came her way. For Maya, this was no longer an option.

In her younger days, Maya had lived many years giving her power to the emotional pull of the river of duality. She had been pulled into one side or the other, tossed between conflicting views like a leaf in the current. Her mind had been a constant whirlpool of past and future, polarizing people and places while succumbing to avoidance and exclusion. The river, she saw, was full of both beauty and brutality in many shapes and forms – from the gentle caress of a calm eddy to the violent crash of a waterfall.

It had been all too easy to blame, project, and suppress, but Maya could now recognize the internal mind construct that in and of itself had the power to defy contentment and joy. She had become accustomed to blaming those people and events in the river for pulling her in, until she realized that she indeed had a choice. And with that choice came power.

Maya first began to see the polarity by coining the term 'brutiful,' her clever portmanteau that encompassed the bothness of life's polarized expressions and events. The word rolled off her tongue with a purr, a sound that vibrated through her chest and brought a sense of comfort.
As time passed, Maya became increasingly committed and loyal to the unified consciousness that allowed her to take delight in the magnificent display of earth-bound opposites. This newfound perspective filled her with empathy, her heart expanding to embrace all the experiences she witnessed from her perch.

In truth, Maya loved to purr when feeling happy! The soft rumble would start deep in her throat and spread warmth throughout her body. Sometimes she would purr even while surrendering to the river of emotions and story, taking delight in the experiences of being body-bound. This too was easy for her, her lithe form moving with grace whether on land or in water.

But nothing gave her heart more joy than surrendering to a higher love, an unconditional and divine love she accessed by opening to that which is greater than her little mink heart. The fur along her spine would tingle with energy as she connected to this higher plane of existence. Maya knew that this was exclusively possible from the banks of the river, as opening when in the crisis of surviving the movement and momentum most often came from the heart of bargaining and wishful thinking.

This higher love held her embodied experience in a way that softened her inside and out, bringing comfort and perspective. Her muscles relaxed, and her breathing deepened. While in this perspective, everything that made up this river of life could be seen, held, and loved as a part of the play in the phenomenal world for which she was named. And even in chaos, her heart opened toward life and death, crisis and ease, lack and abundance.

She had transcended her given name and instead, in her devotion, was given the name Unity by her playful friends – the ones who preferred to stay immersed in the game of managing and surviving the inner tumult of river life. Maybe they were making fun of her, their chittering laughter echoing along the riverbank, but she knew that her friends loved her. Maya's whiskers would twitch with amusement at their antics, even as she maintained her loving composure.

Maya's devotion to experiencing presence and perspective gave rise to a still and silent nothingness too. In this state, her senses seemed to expand beyond the physical realm. Where no movement moved, and no ripples rippled, and she discovered an innate and profound peace. In the true nothingness of space, she rose above duality, infused with clarity and perspective, a God-sent awareness and Love – a consciousness she found fully capable of infusing throughout her experiences of all things of the Earth dimension – in it, but not of it.
As she sat on her perch, Maya's eyes gleamed with wisdom and compassion. The sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, reflected in the ever-moving surface of the river. Maya took a deep breath, her chest expanding with gratitude for the insights she had gained. No hooks. No dams. No kidding. Just a mink at peace, watching the eternal dance of the river of life.