Three Wiser Men

The three wiser men await the birth of a new child. 

I land up on the beaches of west coast; the sands are blowing hot and cold; moist and bold - I take a first whiff and remember my body and soul together. 
Take a seat and look at the beautiful ocean, calling with her clear calm gentle whistling soul stirring song. Never ending waves break on to the coast. The scenery of revelry has finally unmasked in my being. What I was to be; never ending water called forth by the beautiful moon. 

My dear friend and I unpack and let the formalities be, we meet our dear friend from another land and engage in beautiful convoluted conversations. We make the best of our time, we know that it will never come back. A realization so simple so easily forgotten otherwise. 

My vacation has taken grip in my mind; not that I ever mind it doing that any how. I freshen up and take a shower and we rent a vehicle to go meet our wiser guides. They have been somehow I suspect, waiting for acting hosts (unwilling or not). They havs,e been seeking our calling to fulfill. 

We ride in the blazing may heat of India, towards their home. Tucked in the rural setting, without a shadow of doubt the center of a firestorm, yet so simply decorated. We land up at their doors, uninvited and without anyone to welcome us in. 
A storm is on the loose - or so it seems; the sun is covered behind the clouds though its not less hotter, the colors have changed, the sky and mood has become one of inevitable surprise. 

Our friend Saada walks in, I can see him with a night light in his hands, he opens the door to his pretty home; colored every wall with different mellow colors, he leads us in and so graciously offers us water and rest. My two friends and I have found our oasis. Saada is japanese and a host at heart. He may not be in a mood to entertain but human heart is so clear. There is no doubt of the wisdom of its love. We sit and entertain ourselves in many ways; and as such saada starts to tell us about a little of what is in his heart tonight (or so many nights). 

We are always proving the nature of the bigger self, the being without par. Saada simply puts it as the god side. He has traveled from Nepal to Goa on bike. He has seen what has to be seen and now he knows the good side and god side of human beings. He tells us about this god side, where one is looking for beauty justice and reward in the name of god. This is his project; his religon and he prophetically calls it PEG project. Proving (perennially) the existence of a god. 
Saada wears a rudraksh around his neck and is dressed to run into wilderness. He is prepared for a warriors battle and he talks about the nature of man kind. 
I like to listen to him and so do my dear brothers. We sit around a round table and look at the scenery change so very often, waiting for saada's brothers to come about; and they do very soon. The project is under way. 

The three wiser men make us at home and invite the matted hair brother who talks less and speaks more. This is a parable of the mind; and soon my friends and I are frying indoors with no ventilation and of course with the power exuding from each one of us. The heat is incredible; we take a practical lesson and go outside towards the ancient waters to prove the existence of saada's theory

It is post evening twilight, and the moon has risen long time now, hid by the omniscient clouds the white light is pouring through the cracks of sky. The light is shining green and golden, fragments pouring inside the eye of mind; there is no way out of here. The sea is ominous. Its noise is subtle yet so power ridden that I fail to understand it completely. My friend and I are both mesmerized. We are sitting and meditating looking out and feeling a bit freer. The project to prove the existence of god is so much in depth that I do not know how describe it. 

We get a couple of beers and finally a long hard winding day comes to a so called halt. I will never forget the beauty of the sky in my life till my life ends. The power of a day and twilight night shown to me by the grace of three wiser men, and a fourth and fifth. These people were shining gods in disguise, they who could see what was not possible to see. 

I am still neck deep in the PEG project; all the time showing myself the beauty of the world and other world. And attributing it to a god or nature, to the unknown and the self. What a waste. Just to observe is enought? experiencing and letting the project taking its course without my active participation would be just fine too. I feel. And my heart over flows. I feel alive just this time. 

Peace 

Y

I am facing a real dilemma today as of forever to say; I cannot get you off my mind, my heart beats triumphantly (only for you). Lost my ego and my so called narcissistic domain; to see a glimpse of you. Whiff and praise your delight every waking hour. This would be my life's soul work so as to say.

Why are these moments of separation present, when love is forever overflowing in the cup filling blessed nectar.
I cannot look away. For even a single moment spent without attention, might lead your love astray (towards me).

Why muse, you have kept me in such wander? Thirsty and crumbling towards tears of sadness, when you sing, when you speak I mean to say; You fill the chambers of my heart with echoes which last this damned eternity (of leading a life away from togetherness)
Why you speak not and whisper tender any more in my ears, Is it that we are to be separated in this life/s tale? Shall we not find shelter together ? Even in the morose never ending depths of eternity?

Why has our life stayed apart, why does it not meander together as one river of love? Why does it flow towards the abyss in a frantic speed, away from the love that we all are be.
Why should you not look upon me, and curse me for writing these words down and not bleeding it from my heart. For that is the true expression of what happens as now, when you remain apart.

I cannot speak of the memories present in my mind, they sting me like a thousand scorpions; all at one time. What remains shall not be, as of what was could never be what is intended. What is must to be.
Why has love forsaken heart and left the realm all together. There are such truths to be breathed in, through you. Tenderness par excellence, yet all I feel is darkness our mother taking over, not intruding on the malady fast spreading afar.

I look at temples of ruin and brokers in tall towers living fast; I know you are there somewhere in between perhaps; forgetting our time spent in this life. I feel a bit saddened and then follow my routine of blessing whatever is good to be. What that there is; shouldn't have been.

Why does love break apart, for it always almost feels to not conform to the sense which we are. My heart weeps every day and every night for my lover, and this pain which should not have been. It is the existential routine; that whatever is borne; bears misery; borne's life and death and the love lost all too soon and compartmentalizes into a fading memory.

I want out, I cry out; without my beloved Tara  lover of life - there is no use. When there is dismay; who shall evoke to make it out of context if not you; without my beloved all I ask is why to the questions of no use.
Why must there be this self, which lives away in reality or dream away from the lover of life and death. If this life is worth something, this time and pain. I would swear it is for love, not the one's which we have already felt. But the kind which we have blocked out for eternity. Open heart, break it, wander you fools. You have not understood what true love is, unless you verily drown in the love for the muse. (of Namaciva)

Peace

How Else Can I Say?

 

The waters are kind of silent. Maybe the prelude to a mind changing storm. I hug my sanity good bye. Let us float on ancient nile. Dancing wild like heathens and making a night under the stars a final chance.

Everyone is so weary, yet so calm. Around me or my body. Wrapped up tight, the beautiful ravine stares back blank like all of our select eyes.

Shakes violent like the mighty eagle or vulture of our creators/our gods flights into the unknown night might have taken over, maybe like our ancient river is giving (a)way, to the underground race once more. The lightning fast silent warriors of snakes and the like. Those who haunt us from the sky and deep water. Stuck on this planet and the seven planes which exist all together, all at one fucking time. The group is shaking in silent vibration.

The night is vast. Stalking my shadow and I. A mockery and foolish attempt to describe something worthwhile. How my mind and my well of a heart cry.

Make it worth your while. Listening; the ravine blows over and the river tides. I am broken; and my lovers who sit silent with me are as well dismayed. The birth of change never changes? ( Our hearts have given way, in the love of all such things)

The possibility of embracing sanity and insanity gives away and the earth trembles open. The core is present alive, and yes the ones underground have taken our place. This is the natural evolution of things and experiences that is said, The earth a model unit of the experience of life in this age/yuga. Snakes and the vast alien dimensions ripping over our carcasses, our energy devoured by the meagre sustaining and replenishing universe.

I salute to the sun and bow down to the earth, giving away my external instances. It is after all about being genuine in the scheme of things. Whatever makes you shine and glow. My entire group feels the same way as we watch the dark night come alive maybe forever in our heads and hearts. We all climb tall to the stance, giving away all attachments; feeling our hearts pound as one. I have felt this way once before.

When was the last time, it beat. For a non tangible cause. When did it beat last for your self to be over whelmed. I do not know for myself. But I verily cry every time I feel the depths and pangs of the infinite heart take over for the beloved. Tara be blessed. Tara be praised. When the divine mother takes everything from us, shall she bless us with everything. Inside the ravine is our minds. Now almost gone, we see every time over like a reset button till we know what is to happen at the advent of our birth. OF course our deaths.

Tango and embrace; break off and part ways. Life is dichotomous with a nasty sense of humour. Welcome the way with a kiss.

Beating bravely, it stands tall, like my dark shaman group and I , all giving away our externals All embraced the internal call of the divine. How else can I say?

Peace

<Mind> Having A Mind of Its Own

 

Succinct intelligence drives forth at the very heart of the beating breathing organism. It is already pre-defined or pre-ordained. Why is time linear in one way ( A Vector?). Why does it seem that the mind has a mind of its own and we are nowhere in the plan.

This intelligence is programmed, to achieve a particular state. Always evolving without a real end, but always a utopia present to drive it forth in evolution every single moment of the day.

We can look at the moment here and now; and how it is the culmination of all the past perfect moments leading your life to that and this and every single momentary revelation. How the same is possible calculated from your death bed – backwards in time’s sphere of linearity (What the fuck?).

So for all those who revel in their imagination – you see yourself at the very moment backwards and forwards in time’s illusory sphere.

My mind does not belong to me, it is developing based on its own necessity, How come the mind has a mind of its own? Where it craves state after state of some form of contentment or imaginary satisfaction. How does the I fit into this plan, holding everything together through mental ropes. How the feeling of the individual ego gets hooked onto the evolutionary miracle of the brain (and its continuous advancement)

You and I cannot fathom the expanse of the universe of our own mind. It pales the external world in comparison. It is grandeur of inner space. It can imagine visualize and create. Worlds and these invisible to describe (yet scientifically entertained) emotions. It can create ecstasy and faith. Hope and acceptance of this causal powerful life and its fate.

Surely the mind has a mind of its own. Without a doubt it smiles to my self and I see that it doesn’t mind. Sharing the inner space with the false dawning of the I. Which surely does not control the needs and wants of the mind. Neither can it be accredited with everything this beautiful organ and life design can in turn create.

The I experience can only be a witness to this wonderful evolution that is the brain. Working and thinking. Creating memories and future backward entireties. Live’s and after Lives – all the beautiful fascinating creation of the mind. It is beyond words (for that too is created from itself). After all the mind is the creator of the feeling and experience of I too is it not?

How then can we keep ourselves or the notion of I-ness as grander than this simple 2 kg organ which creates our existence, makes us witness as it evolves and creates inner/outer scapes for the amusement of its own self.

IS this not the collective mind? The minds of organic beings creating a unified world – which they share in whichever mood or feeling they exist in or wish to see. What a concept of the mind, and the I just witnesses itself and the mind feeds it the deception – of its eternal existence. When it will die over a period of time, the mind deteriorates and it leaves the I crumbling and unsure of its self. This is death, the final union of the mind into the invisible energy taking its course.

Peace