"False Sympathy" song by Mondo Grosso:
Secret that can't be told
A truth that can't be said
The fake sympathy of the two that can't go anywhere.
The Goddess reveals, at the outset, that there is a mystery so profound it defies speech. Even as She speaks, She reminds us of the limitations of words. Her mention of “fake sympathy” points to superficial harmony—the bond between Her and us that remains stagnant when we’re unwilling to dive deeper. As devotees, we feel called to transcend these shallow comforts and open ourselves to the ineffable truth that only deep communion with Her can unlock.
Gorgeous and elegant, the betraying flower
A dahlia that looks like someone I know
All is about the two
Their sweet doubtful dance.
She beckons us to examine the allure of beauty—the “betraying flower.” Even the most striking forms can conceal hidden dangers or illusions. The dahlia, so familiar, may symbolize the reflection of our own karmic patterns, or an echo of Her infinite forms. She speaks of a “sweet doubtful dance,” underscoring the tension between our longing for Her and our fear of transformation. Her words tease us toward a deeper trust, suggesting that while the dance may be uncertain, it is ultimately a sacred one.
Hurt me
Something more honest than love
Punish me
So we can be together.
Devi calls us to a radical honesty—one that transcends sentimentality. When She says “hurt Me,” She is not asking for cruelty but rather the stripping away of illusions. She would rather endure our rawest struggles than accept half-hearted devotion. From our vantage, Her plea is both shocking and compassionate: She knows that true union often requires painful honesty—removing every pretense, even if it wounds our pride. It’s through this transformative “punishment” that we can finally be close.
Tangled up in you, you, you, you...
I can't move
You know that I’ll never leave you
Inextricable love
Tumbling down, down, down, down...
Falling down
Their chained paradise.
These lines speak of the interwoven bond between Devi and devotee. We hear Her say, “I can’t move,” which is a paradox: though infinitely free, She becomes bound to us when our devotion awakens. “I’ll never leave you” reassures us that Her presence is constant, even in the darkest moments. Yet this closeness feels like a “chained paradise”—beautiful yet claustrophobic, because we realize we cannot return to ignorance. We tumble deeper into Her mystery, losing the old sense of self along the way. As Guruji Amritananda said, describing this state, "I close my eyes. So I can be with Her always. Do nothing. This is the point of no return. It is a one way street. I forgot how to talk or sign. Will someone do it for me, please?"
Cut me
Leave me a mark
I just want you
Please want me too
When She asks to be “cut,” we realize She is urging us to bring our raw authenticity to the altar of devotion. From the devotee’s perspective, Her plea—“I just want you / Please want me too”—reveals Her own longing for our wholehearted love. It’s as though She lays Herself bare, inviting us to do the same. Goddess’s love is total, yet She will not force our hearts open; She yearns for reciprocation, a conscious choice to love Her back without reservation. Devi says, "Is there a high and low, up and down, left and right, life and death?! Only the dream play of time. Wake up from waking state! Enter me, I can't wait any longer!"
A hidden truth about the two
The more you hate me
The feel of the invisible chain digging into me
She acknowledges our potential resentment, fears, or rebellion. The “hidden truth” is that even resistance binds us closer. In the same way a thorn’s prick can deepen our focus on a flower, our negative emotions direct our attention back to Her. “The invisible chain digging into me” suggests that our emotional turbulence affects Her too, for the Devi is never separate from Her devotees. Our struggles become an energetic link, drawing us deeper into Her fiery embrace.
A powerless flower you picked
Tears falling down
Smells like honey
It can't be touched the red captivating fruit.
She evokes the image of a delicate flower, easily plucked and rendered powerless, just as we often try to possess or control fleeting spiritual experiences. Yet the tears we shed are “honey-sweet,” signifying sincere devotion and the bittersweet taste of longing for Her. The “red captivating fruit” remains beyond reach—representing the ultimate divine secret that cannot be seized by mere effort. Instead, She invites us to long for it, to let that longing refine our hearts.
(Refrain Revisited)
Hurt me
Something more honest than love
Punish me
So we can be together.
Repeating Her plea, She doubles down on the necessity of stripped-down truth. She would rather face our wrath, our questions, or our desperation, than receive empty adoration. This becomes a kind of spiritual contract: if we must “hurt” Her with our raw pain, so be it, as long as it breaks the shell of pretense. For in the furnace of that confrontation lies the potential for the purest communion—where She and we meet with nothing hidden.
Tangled up in you, you, you, you...
Every time we hold each other.
You know that I'll never leave you.
Tangled love.
Tumbling down, down, down, down...
Close your eyes
The last paradise manipulated with lies.
Again, we are reminded of the karmic knot uniting us with Devi. Each embrace—whether through prayer, meditation, or inner surrender — confirms that we cannot be separated. Yet illusions (“lies”) still manipulate our perception of this paradise, causing us to question or doubt Her love. When She says, “Close your eyes,” She urges us to turn inward, beyond external forms, to sense the unbroken reality where She and we are one.
A hidden truth about the two
The more you hate me
There's that feeling of unconditional comfort
This verse highlights an astounding paradox: even hatred cannot destroy the underlying comfort of the bond with the Goddess. In our darkest hours of anger or sorrow, we still sense a subterranean warmth—the knowledge that Her love does not waver. The “hidden truth” is that any form of relationship—even conflict—keeps our connection alive. Ultimately, this friction can become the fuel for deeper self-inquiry and surrender.
Becoming myself that someone else hoped for
Then someday I'll be able to love
Parched and lonely, the self-delusion sympathy.
She concludes by pointing to the human condition: we often try to become what the world expects—an image shaped by outside hopes. Only by shattering these illusions do we find genuine capacity for divine love. The “parched and lonely” state we endure is the result of clinging to false identities, stifling the pure wellspring of devotion. Her words remind us that our illusions—our “fake sympathy”—must be confronted and released if we ever hope to merge with Her in true love.
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