🎢 Līlā – The Cosmic Play: Between Forgetting and Remembering

We are all children of the stars. Before we came here, we gathered in light and laughter and whispered: “Let’s go down. Let’s forget for a while. Let’s play.” 💫

In that moment we weren’t chasing anything. There was no race, no measure, no higher-faster-better. Only the joy of experience, the thrill of exploring what it means to be human. To fall and to rise. To lose and to find. To cry and to laugh. To forget and to remember.

But when we arrived, we forgot the play. The weight of this world grew heavy, and the game became serious. We turned the dance into duty, the music into noise, the joy into a checklist. We began to measure ourselves, compare, strive, exhaust. We thought we had to achieve, to prove, to conquer – instead of simply to be.

Yet Krishna, with his flute and his eternal smile, reminds us of what we have lost. In Hindu tradition, Krishna is a god-child, a playful trickster, a wise lover, and a guide – a being who moves through the world with joy and mischief, showing that divinity itself delights in play.

He plays, not to win, not to perform, but because play is the essence of life. His līlā – a Sanskrit word meaning “divine play” – is not a game of competition; it is the game of creation itself. The universe is born out of play, not out of pressure. Existence itself is a divine hide-and-seek, where the One becomes many, just to find itself again.

And here we are – caught between forgetting and remembering. The sadness, the depression, the restlessness we carry often comes from this forgetting. Somewhere deep down we know:

✨ This was never supposed to be a battlefield of egos, but a playground of souls. ✨

But the battlefield of egos is part of the play as well – for without forgetting, there would be no remembering. The darkness, too, holds its quiet beauty, for it teaches us to recognize the light. And the time to return to that light is always now.

To live līlā means to loosen the grip.
To allow life to move through us with curiosity, not control.
To see each moment not as a task to master, but as a mystery to taste.
To meet others not as rivals, but as fellow players who also once promised, up there among the stars: “See you on Earth – let’s play.”

So maybe the invitation is simple:
To remember that nothing is as serious as it seems.
To smile, even in the mess.
To play again, wildly, tenderly, divinely.

Because life is not a test.
It is līlā. 🥰

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Reflections & Playful Experiments

• When was the last time I laughed without reason – simply because I could?
  
• Where in my life have I turned play into duty? What if I loosened it, even a little?
  
• Can I let myself do something today without purpose or achievement – just for joy?
  

Try this:

• Next time you feel pressure rising, pause and whisper to yourself: “This is a game.” Notice how your body shifts.
  
• Wear mismatched socks, dance in your kitchen, sing in the shower. Do something intentionally silly, just to break the spell of seriousness.
  
• When you catch yourself comparing – stop, smile, and remember: no one is ahead or behind. We’re all players in the same cosmic playground.
  
• At the end of the day, ask: “Where did I forget the play? And where did I remember?”

❤️💛💚

Peace, Pow & Play ✨

Namast’ay Wild!
Yours and mine,

I & I 🦁