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Chanting a holy text is a great yoga. A powerful concentration exercise. It teaches grace in all experiences. Devotional song is even more attainable since slower, a bit.
I can enumerate and classify all the elements of experience during and by means of such a practice: All are conscious emanations like sparks from the same core of being, a core experienced as stillness. All: even those I had, have, or might see confusedly, as to be identified with. The sensation of pressed brows, I once identified with Self, since that had co-occurred so much for me in my teens, is just a spark like the rest. The inner thought of myself, my enthused and bright intellect, also is a spark of the same invisible steady flame. All, I have enumerated them all, and all are from, products of, the core, none are true Identity (if grabbed and held as Me or Mine, and from there confusedly wondering what to do next or how to react to the dramas, gripping that false Identity, in my ignorance and even panicked grip on it, I imagine it might soothe me but I am hardly soothed).
No task but the awareness of I am That. The formal inner encounter with the Teacher is egoless, simple, you could say utterly surrendered, past surrendered, yet miracles continue to arise. A vision of the column of energy, like a flash, miracles and blessings, canonical [mystical] realization coming unrequested, by grace. Thank you.