Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
Sometimes I can't quite see the One, even though it lives inside everyone and everything.
It's like being thirsty right next to a pond — but there's a little wall in the way.
The wall isn't the One's doing; it's just my own forgetting, and walls like that can come down.
This verse names a feeling every honest seeker knows: mai kee nadar na aavhee, vaseh habheeaan naal — "You are not visible to me, though You dwell with everyone." The One is right here, in everyone, yet somehow I can't see it. The image is unforgettable: tikhaa tihaaiaa kio lahai, jaa sar bheetar paal — "how can the thirst be quenched when there is a wall between me and the pond?" The water is right there — the One is present, close as can be — but a wall stands between. And what is the wall? Not the One's absence, but our own forgetting and doubt (the shabad names it in the next verse). The tender truth is that the wall is thin, and it can come down. For a child: sometimes the good thing you need is right there, and the only thing in the way is a little wall inside yourself — and those walls can come down.
What kind of 'wall' inside us can keep us from feeling something good that's right nearby?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI