Analogy: The Magnet and the Senses
The senses are like magnets — always drawn to the iron filings of the outer world: sights, sounds, tastes, touches, and smells. Wherever there's a glitter of pleasure or a rustle of novelty, they rush in, pulled by the invisible force of desire. But this attraction has a price: the momentary contact leaves behind impressions — some sweet, some bitter. Joy when the attraction satisfies; sorrow when it slips away. And so, the magnet of the senses swings endlessly between gain and loss, pleasure and pain. However, when the same magnet is realigned, turned away from the scattered iron of the outer world and toward the pure lodestone of the Self, something extraordinary happens. The pull becomes steady, silent, and powerful. No longer scattered, the senses become centered. This inward pull doesn’t flicker with joy or sink with sorrow — it rests in bliss, for it has found the one source that neither changes nor fades.
