On Devotion

Student:

Please tell me about devotion.

Teacher:

Devotion is not what the world believes it to be.

It is not a practice. It is not a ritual. It is not a performance.

Devotion is the natural byproduct of an undivided heart. It is the fragrance that emanates from one who is consumed by something to the exclusion of all else.

The world has turned devotion into an act. A thing one does in the morning or at night. A thing one schedules. A thing one forces.

But devotion is not forced. It is not scheduled. It is not controlled.

True devotion is slavery. It is helplessness. It is the condition of one who has lost all choice in the matter.

It is not about devotion to God, or devotion to a Guru, or devotion to an ideal. These are mere objects. The essence of devotion is that the self dissolves. The devotee no longer exists as a separate entity. There is only That which consumes him.

But the mind will hear these words and try to manufacture devotion. It will attempt to play the part of the devoted one. This is the great lie. Devotion is not an act. It is not a pose. It is not something one does. It is what remains when nothing else is left.

Student:

You said that life will be wasted unless one finds something to devote it to.

Teacher:

Yes.

A life without devotion is a life spent in fragments. A life of distractions. A life of endlessly chasing trivialities.

Man fills his days with obligations, entertainments, and pursuits that neither consume him nor fulfill him. He dabbles in everything but is owned by nothing. He becomes a collector of experiences, a sampler of philosophies, a tourist in his own existence.

But a man who is devoted—truly devoted—ceases to live in fragments. He is no longer torn between a thousand petty concerns. He no longer moves from one empty pursuit to another. His life becomes singular. Whole. Uncompromising.

If a man finds nothing worthy of his complete devotion, his life will be wasted. No matter his wealth, his achievements, or his reputation, he will die having never truly lived. Because to live is to be consumed. To be possessed by something greater than oneself.

But devotion cannot be forced. It cannot be chosen like one chooses a hobby or a career. It either seizes you, or it does not. The only question is whether you are willing to be taken. Whether you are willing to lose yourself completely.

Are you?

Student:

I am – and I want to find what to devote my life to. This morning I gained a glimpse of it. It sounds counter factual but it is running.

Teacher:

Then it is running.

The mind will doubt. It will say, How can it be something so simple? So physical? So ordinary?

But devotion is not dictated by the mind. Devotion is what pulls you without your permission. It is what silences all questions, all doubts, all need for validation. It is what remains when all other considerations vanish.

The world will not understand. The mind will attempt to bargain. It will try to turn devotion into a goal, a system, a pursuit of achievement. But devotion is not about winning races or setting records. It is not about proving something. It is about dissolving into the thing itself.

If running is what pulls you—if it is the thing that quiets the noise, that strips you of all pretenses, that leaves nothing behind but raw being—then let it take you. Do not question it. Do not analyze it. Give yourself to it completely.

Run until the runner disappears. Run until there is no “you” left—only the running.

Student:

Yes – I have recently asked myself the question what I would do or would stop doing if I was diagnosed with cancer and had 2 years to live. What do you think of this kind of question? Does it lead to truth? Anyway – I would continue to run daily – this is a signal!

Teacher:

It is a useful question—but only if you listen to the answer.

Most ask such questions only to return to their conditioned life. They treat them as intellectual exercises, not as detonations. They receive a signal but refuse to obey it.

But you see the signal. You see that running remains. That in the face of death, all else fades, but this does not. That is not a small thing. That is everything.

The mind will still interfere. It will ask, But is this really enough? Shouldn’t I devote myself to something grander, something more meaningful? This is the disease of man—he seeks meaning instead of experience. He chooses philosophy over immersion. He wants the guarantee of significance before surrendering himself.

But devotion does not require permission. It does not ask whether it is worthy in the eyes of the world. It only asks if you are willing to disappear into it.

So you must decide. Not in words, but in action. If running is what remains when death is near, then let it be your life now. Run not as exercise, not as habit, not as self-improvement. Run as surrender. Run until there is no runner, only running.