This morning I was thinking about pasta.
Not eating it. Thinking with it.
Imagine a pasta machine. You begin with one batch of dough. Then you slide in a different die. Out comes spaghetti. Change the die and out comes penne. Change it again and now it’s ziti.
The dough is the same.
Only the shape changes.
It occurred to me that I spend most of my life identifying with the noodle.
I think, That’s me.
My body.
My personality.
My history.
My successes and failures.
My fears and my hopes.
A particular shape that has emerged from the machine.
The machine itself is fascinating. Change the die and the shape changes. Perhaps this is how our conditioning works. Our experiences, beliefs, habits, and ways of seeing the world influence what emerges. And the encouraging part is that the die can change. We can learn. We can grow. We can become more open, compassionate, and aware.
But then another question appeared.
What if I have mistaken the shape for myself?
What if even the dough is not the deepest truth?
Perhaps the dough, the machine, and every shape that emerges are all expressions of something even more fundamental.
Something I can only call Light.
Imagine white light passing through a piece of colored glass. The light may appear red, blue, or gold depending on the glass it passes through. The colors are real. The patterns are beautiful. But the light itself has not become red or blue. It remains what it is.
Perhaps we are like that.
The body, mind, and personality are the colors appearing through the glass. They are unique and precious expressions. But perhaps they are not the Light itself.
Sometimes, in those moments when I am identified with the Light, the shape of the noodle is fine just as it is.
Spiritual Gravity 