Sometimes I am a bird,
one of a flock,
building a nest, searching for food,
eating, drinking, mating and
caring for my young,
the experiencer of joy and sorrow.
And sometimes I am the background–
the silent changeless witness of all changing things.
Neti, neti, not this, not this.
Not the body, not the mind, not the sense organs,
not a doer, not a thinker, not an experiencer,
untouched by joy and sorrow.
And sometimes, just sometimes,
the figure and ground merge
into one seamless whole.