Designation: Bags of Salt

I didn’t know that I knew “this,”
But even that which I now know I knew
Is unknown, meaning, I don’t know that either!
And how could this possibly be taught?

I always knew “this,” but what is this, “this”
That I’ve always known? —I have no idea!
The “this,” that I know that I don’t know,
How could this be learned?

Luckily for me, I’m not a Dharma teacher!
But every now and then
There is this powerful desire
To try to help,

But I think this desire,
This most dangerous longing
To help
Just gets in the way,

I think maybe we help
In ways we don’t know,
Without knowing it
And that perhaps this is the best helping of all;

Our desire to know we’re helping,
Maybe is just ego—whatever that is!
So maybe metta just fulfills this desire
And gets it out of the way,

So that we can just get on with doing
Whatever it is we are really doing,
Whatever role we truly play in “this,”
Whatever “this” is,

And, in fact, my teacher has likely helped best
In the ways she doesn’t even know,
Which if I tried to explain
She probably would not understand,
Because it’s got nothing to do with her.