The grain of sand gives itself entirely. Even though I may be totally unaware of it, it waits for the opportunity to show me itself and how it exists through me. It's patient, solid in its purpose, unchanging in its present identity; it doesn't pretend; it doesn't mind if I step on it, praise it, or belittle it; it remains what it is, without disguise or deceit; it is perfectly allowing, doesn't resist the name I give it, lets itself be whatever I call it. Who of right mind wouldn't bow to such a consciousness?
Byron Katie
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