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In Search of the Incomparable 57 tion or divorce. People break with difficulty. They say, “She has spoiled my life," or "He has spoiled my life.” No one has spoiled your life except you with your own thoughts.
In reflecting on anyatva, start with your own body and say, “The body is different from what I am. The body is anya, or other. I am swa, or Self.” Don't confuse one with the other. See them for what they are. When you stop mixing them up, you will be able to know what it is to have companionship. You will know, “What is living, sentient, and formless is ever-moving energy; that is me. What is composing and decomposing is insentient energy. That is the body.” The first is neither composing nor decomposing; the second is always composing and decomposing.
Our bodies are conceived from a single cell. The formation of the body is a process of cells dividing from one to two, from two to four, from four to eight, and so on. The body increases its weight every day. Eight or nine pounds of weight have come from one single cell multiplying, composing, and decomposing. There is not a single moment in which the process stops. It goes on until the last day of our lives.
When we meditate on that, we see the process in its entirety. At any time, that which is composed can decompose. It is not a new discovery. There is no reason for it to give you a shock. When you understand it, you are no longer surprised by anything. The unknown surprises you, but the known is a fact, a statement. You accept it.
Separating yourself through meditation from this process of composing and decomposing, you then ask, “Who is animating this process? Who is beyond this process?" You answer, “That is I.” “I” sits there in the