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if my body is a temple, and I am in my body, then, I am God in this temple.

-安天美

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The Sacred Architecture of Self

I started thinking about temples - those special buildings where people go to find something holy. Like the great temples of stone and gold, my body stands as a sacred architecture -but one made of sinew and soul, bone and breath. People throughout history have called our bodies temples. In Christianity, they speak of the body as a temple of the Holy Spirit. In Hinduism, they see it as housing the divine atman. It's such a simple but powerful idea:

This body of mine is not just flesh and bone, it is sacred space.

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The Mathematics of Presence

The second line "and I am in my body" seems deceptively simple. Yet here I was exploring the profound geometry of being. I thought about how I live in this body. What does it mean to inhabit oneself? We speak so casually of being "in" our bodies, as if we could somehow be elsewhere. My body is my home. I wake up in it, breathe in it, dance in it, rest in it. Just like people live in houses, I live in this body of mine. It's where I experience everything. This line acknowledges the intriguing duality of human existence:

We are both the temple and its inhabitant- the vessel and its contents.

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Divine Habitation

The conclusion "then I am God in this temple" came as a simple realisation, not an attempt to be arrogant. If temples are dwellings for the divine, and my body is truly a temple, then I must be something pretty special. This is where I found myself touching the edges of various spiritual traditions: the Hindu concept of "Aham Brahmasmi" (I am Brahman), the mystical Christian notion of becoming one with God, the Buddhist understanding of innate Buddha-nature. In temples, we find sacred things. In this temple that is my body:

Maybe I'm not just ordinary. Maybe I'm something divine.

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The Dance of Flesh and Spirit

What fascinates me most about these lines is how they dissolve the supposed boundary between physical and spiritual existence. The body isn't merely a container for something holy - it is the very substance of sacred experience. In writing this, I found myself celebrating not just spiritual truth, but the miracle of embodied existence. It's all connected.

Every heartbeat, every breath, every movement is holy.

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Concluding Contemplation

These three lines emerged as more than poetry - they became a doorway to understanding my own existence in new ways. They suggest that divinity isn't something we need to seek in distant heavens or ancient buildings. Instead, it resides in the intimate temple of our own being, where every cell sings its sacred song, and every moment of conscious presence is an act of divine inhabitation.

The miracle, perhaps, is not that we might be divine, but that we ever thought we were anything else.

We don't need to look far away to find something sacred.

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A Final Thought

Sometimes the deepest truths are the simplest ones.

What do you think? Is your body a temple?

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