The word “Namaha” is often included at the end of Sanskrit mantras. It beautifully translates to ‘not mine.’ I’ve been reflecting on what that means.
It’s funny, I can easily detach from material/ physical things. I’ll adapt to sleeping on a floor or couch no problem, let a friend ‘surprise’ dye my hair bright blue & pink, and even end jobs and relationships with no backup plan if I feel called by the Divine.
But when ‘not mine’ applies to the Divine itself…it’s not so easy. I have to peer into the deeply entwined nuances of my psyche…at ‘possessions’ that have me hooked.
I’m still very attached to music, my voice/ ability to sing, my aesthetic preferences, my karma, my identity as a ‘peaceful person,’ my health and being able-bodied, the idea that I have ‘worth’ and respect from my peers, and ‘my’ relationship with the divine.
But none of those things are actually ‘mine.’ Repeating ‘Namaha’ reminds me that I have no ownership over the Divine, and that my divinely filled cup is no more important than anyone else’s. The person sitting next to me at a yoga class has just as much a right to know and be loved by God/ Source as I do.
This is why lately I’ve been experimenting with devotion as a way of emptying out my cup. Each time I repeat ‘Namaha’ and remember ‘not mine,’ I offer it all up- the practice, the voice, the song, my body/ spirit, and all my nuanced ego attachments/ desires- back to the source, the music, the sacred river, Saraswati.
Instead of trying to collect a sacred river in a cup, I’d rather learn to flow with its beloved intelligence. And the more I realize the beloved is ‘not mine,’ the closer I get to it.
Om Aim Saraswatah-ye Namaha
