how to make every action of spiritual quality?
The Path of Sevā: Transcending the Material Mind
The path of sevā shines eternal, a sacred marga beyond all others.
It lifts the soul above senses, where the divine alone resides.
Yoga, the silent union, seeks what senses cannot grasp.
In Kali’s shadow, sense-bound acts bind us to fleeting dust.
Encourage not the senses; they weave a material veil.
The body’s senses are but clay, born of earth’s illusion.
Yet thought, when pure, ascends to touch the spirit’s flame.
A transcendent thought, rooted in truth, births sacred consciousness.
Without this higher awareness, sevā falls to hollow form.
Senses, left unchecked, drag the soul to material chains.
But bhakti blooms when love offers action to the eternal.
Most stumble, blind to the divine, lost in ego’s grip.
Mamakara—mine-ness—clings like rust to the soul’s mirror.
Ahankara—I-ness—builds a cage of false identity.
“Fall not,” cries the Self, for descent is the mind’s betrayal.
“Uplift yourself by the mind,” sings the Gita’s timeless call.
The mind, both friend and foe, holds the key to freedom.
Let not the Self degrade into ego’s darkened maze.
Na avasādayet—sink not deeper into illusion’s grasp.
Raise consciousness, a beacon bright, to guide each sacred act.
Offer every kriya with love, a gift to the infinite.
See the heart transform, as materialism fades to light.
The eternal Poorna—complete, divine—receives your offering true.
Experiment with awareness; let bhakti purify through devotion.
In this dance of consciousness, the soul awakens to its source.
It lifts the soul above senses, where the divine alone resides.
Yoga, the silent union, seeks what senses cannot grasp.
In Kali’s shadow, sense-bound acts bind us to fleeting dust.
Encourage not the senses; they weave a material veil.
The body’s senses are but clay, born of earth’s illusion.
Yet thought, when pure, ascends to touch the spirit’s flame.
A transcendent thought, rooted in truth, births sacred consciousness.
Without this higher awareness, sevā falls to hollow form.
Senses, left unchecked, drag the soul to material chains.
But bhakti blooms when love offers action to the eternal.
Most stumble, blind to the divine, lost in ego’s grip.
Mamakara—mine-ness—clings like rust to the soul’s mirror.
Ahankara—I-ness—builds a cage of false identity.
“Fall not,” cries the Self, for descent is the mind’s betrayal.
“Uplift yourself by the mind,” sings the Gita’s timeless call.
The mind, both friend and foe, holds the key to freedom.
Let not the Self degrade into ego’s darkened maze.
Na avasādayet—sink not deeper into illusion’s grasp.
Raise consciousness, a beacon bright, to guide each sacred act.
Offer every kriya with love, a gift to the infinite.
See the heart transform, as materialism fades to light.
The eternal Poorna—complete, divine—receives your offering true.
Experiment with awareness; let bhakti purify through devotion.
In this dance of consciousness, the soul awakens to its source.
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