Sunday, May 31, 2009

Doors of Perception

I like this from Jim Morrison a lot, I think the song is Maggie Mgill...
This phrase is almost ethereal, and as most words which make a difference to the perceiver, the words themselves have no role to play as the synergistic energies they call to the fore.

" I am an old Blues Band,
   and I think that You will understand... 
   I have been singing the blues, 
   Ever since the world began. " 
- The Doors 


Re Lapse

Every seven months, I left to the quiet womb of the earth. That’s what I used to call the hill. It wasn’t that I ever was detracted by the raving madness of human seas. Where one body ended and another started without the sight of a gap. All in all I used to enjoy the play, which humanity had played upon itself. The gaping mouth of madness was upon them and all of this movement. To bear it null and void.
I used to take a slow train to the ends of the earth.  The train used to chug along without care. I used to find peace in what most others call an inanimate object. It gave me care till my no-destination was reached. Once there, I would be greeted by no-one. I would take slow steps. These steps were the method by which I made the seeming separation (or no-separation) be realized. Or forgotten depending upon my gentle smile. I would not take much with me for this habitual indulgence every so often. Just perhaps a change of clothes, a pad to write with (though I used to loathe using the skin of a tree to indulge) and perhaps a razor. Maybe to look presentable in almost a non rational colonial method to the seeming crowds of no-ones who would greet me..
The climb would start very close, as close as I chose. It looked unfathomable that an odd old and quite unfit man like me would do a bit of trekking to what most would call an escape or even a vain effort to reassure that self peace still existed, here and now. And perhaps even realizable. Of course this isn’t true. True peace. Well that’s something which is very remote to me. For there is not much true and there is a lot which is peaceful. And the words are quite inter exchangeable along with their meanings.
The time of the year which I chose for such rambling and traveling would inevitably be autumn or early winter. It left the remaining earth in a silence, silence which I had adored when I was younger. Don’t get me wrong, I still do. But realization is something profound. Perspectives drop and silence stills.
Silent tree greets me on silent snow filled paths and peaks. Silent is the river which flows not. Made into ice. Slow is the partaking of this grandeur. I also take my place thus.
There is a single flight which takes place over and over in my head over my entire lifetime. The flight calls to me whispering in hedonistic, sometimes nihilistic tones. ‘fall, oh fall just once go down and see the master. See the master that maketh the rise and the fall’
Not a trace of meaning is present.
At these great heights. I sometimes take a dip. In the ice cold sensation of being nude. Where no one can watch the no one becoming nude. Where silence envelops, grips tight.

The seizure starts as soon as I enter this city of glass. This city of silence. It begins with the shaking. The trembling of the roots. As it all spins without end. Endless circles, endless citadels broken remade only to be broken down. Every which way , this moment, this shaking takes me by surprise. I give into it not easily. ‘I’ will not give up as much as it takes. It will try to move. Try to move into the shadows and take hold like a puppeteer.
Blood gently flows from my nose. Sometimes from my eyes and my belly. It soaks the ice red. It creates somewhat of a stagnant sensation in this aura. A stagnant sensation because it is exactly what this place calls for. The exact thoughts, never different. These roots shake then. Tremble even more.
And as I lie on my back stretched like the dead fetus which I was when I was born. Relief and pain stretch at first very exact and in directions in the inner space. Then they recede. They come back one last time, as I have noticed almost all the time. When this relapse occurs. Then they disappear. They vanish.

I have become a whiff of cloud. I have spent time in the mire. In the moor. In the marsh. In the wallow of wood. Inside the womb of adya.
My body disappears one at a time, the hands become the earth and the feet become the seas. The heart becomes the shadow and the bones become the sorrow; sorrow enveloping humanity. The lips become deceit and the eyes become the thunder in the sky.
One at a time, I become devoid.Both these stretch in another inner space. They are here as real or illusory as the blood soaked which gold I lay on.
Trapped in bodies. Freedom in the mind. Redemption of souls. Such drills in the I. The breadth is wasted. Wasted is the last stand. Shakes and quakes is the being with such glimpses.

I lay there for the exact time; 5 days and some hours. Not that I am keen on keeping time, I don’t even possess a clock or a watch. But this place keeps me in a condition…
I come back, but not the same, I don’t understand the ideas of emancipation.
The no-being greets the no-being like a beggar greets the king; like a whore greets her customer lover; like the rich man greeting his death. Like myself greeting no-one.

I wander, as I awaken. Thoughts are afraid of the I now. They hide where they can find space. They dig deep in the snow. Inverted; in cooling conditions such as ones promised, who sees who? You see everything in everything inverted…
The clouds you walk upon, the ice melts into rain to fall and drench thee. The sky pulls the earth and the earth reciprocates. The love quenches something what the bowl can’t ever hold.

The relapse isn’t a lapse. It is the lacking of the lapse.

Without Reprieve~Practice Thavam

Last night I heard your voice.
It was the last time , I told myself, that I will run through the mist
Run through the woods. Howl at the moon like a wolf holding my soul in this cage.
And when I draw to my knees, on this downward spiral. Intertwined in my shadow. Watching your presence grow. Watching this play unfold.
I told myself countless times, that this would be the last. This would be the turn I was waiting for , for so long.
Without reprieve , I walk yet. Looking in solemn awkwardness for those who have seen you.
I shook with rage, I shook with spades in my soul.
Dug your own grave ever? Found it in the middle of the road, on the shores of nevermore. Found it atlast in my head, digging deeper. Sound scorned. Sound like that you haven’t had enough. Just like I myself, never got the fix. Never got the fill.
Desire is a dirty word, love is a painful heart attack. Hate is nothing-ness with a form. Light dimmed in this soul. Let the pilgrim out of the cage. Let him out for he is thirsty for blood.
And another night without thy sight, as I crawl on my knees. Wounded and burnt with separation. The howls become deeper.
In tune with my wolf mould. In keeping with the garb of mine. Of stolen tenfold is my nature.
Keeping with the satellite in the sky. Banished like the diamond in the sky.
One day, wasted self enters me. It seems like the end is near, but would it release me.
The kings enter the dungeon. Only to be eaten one at a time. They all smile. They all seem calm at the growls at the other end. Wanting their wasted self. Wanting to rip it off. But is this is a release. Would the king ever become a beggar. A beggar without the need for his bowl.
Practice Thavam , it enters from no where. It will leave no where. It is not present or not present. It is like the water which flows in the rivers of your mind. Flowing now. Without beginning or end.
As you spend your days in this Thavam, the compassion for the self and the no self. Becomes one with myself , leaves a fragile rose. Leaves it here where once your thoughts so roamed. They now cease. They now never where. Like you or I or the veil intertwined. 

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Anarchism 101

The more a man becomes aware, through reflection, of his servile condition, the more indignant he becomes, the more the anarchist spirit of freedom, determination and action waxes inside him. That is true of every individual, man or woman, even though they may never have heard of the word "anarchism" before
-The ABC of Revolutionary Anarchist.

Anarchy means without rulers. This is the same as Swami, in Sanskrit at least to me. Swami in simple terms means One
who is his own master. As in without the need of being told what to do, to live. This is a simple yet very difficult chore, In
a society where it is easy to find out through others how to do things, such as cope with depression or childbirth or suicide
and such. We can rely mostly on others to tell us most of the times what has to be done, why or why not something is
appropriate and such...
In truth, there are very few among us, who actually goto the in depth knitty gritty details of our every moment actions and
thoughts to find out what is appropriate for the individual. Mostly we take advice from TV, the Internet or even MNC's with their
bid to sell their own "unique" products. I believe in absolute conviction that one must take/undergo to try to make a life.
Please take a look at what I said, I didnt say with conviction one must make a living like everyone around you would make you
believe, but rather taking an onus to jump at the opportunity to Live.
Life is as one makes it, and if one chooses to take supposedly an easy path and take life for what others tell it is, then one has to at some
point be able to see that it is not bad to compromise. especially if one has done in the beginning itself for choosing what
their individual definition of life ought to have been.
It takes almost the entire breathing life cycle for most to find out what life or what aspect of this continuity called life they
choose to embrace and be a part of. become a breathing part of. It is as if we are born alien to life, and we search and grope
in the dark until we see that one single thing, that entity, being which we can embrace and enjoy as Life.
But I see the truth as quite separate, yes we might be born alien to life and we might have had to make those attempts
to define ourselves and what life is, but we do not have to grope in the dark. Never.. for Life is all around us, it is up to us
to see that whatever we choose to embrace, how much ever , how much ever less.. all is a part of the grand show called Life.

Anarchy has been very dear to me, An institution is fabulous as long as it imparts gently the knowledge of whoever has established it
for the propagation of Life itself. But seriously if anyone looks around in this world, we would see that an institution is the norm
as in people are afraid, mortally troubled to step out of institutions and into the unknown. The logical conclusion that most
idiots thrust upon me is the institution itself has taken so long to develop the particular facet of knowledge or life its trying to teach,
it would be ruinous not to be a part of it. Institutions such as social ceremonies, educational foundations, career and life choices and even
sex and death related customs or taboos and such.
What I always look to and think is, if the institutions or a way to inventorize something of the human realm is present, sure it is easy and perhaps
advantageous to take part of it, but these too had developed, had been created. What makes these institutions more in a position to
teach what life is to me, than my very own quest for the same. Hence the feeling of anarchy, I do give credit and respect where it is deserved
but salvation indeed is personal, it is not a mass or a group phenomenon, Living and Life is individual too, that is why the whole of
human race is not knitted together like Siamese brothers and sisters. We are to seek and struggle and finally liberate, all credit to ourselves
cause no other credit to anything or one would justify Life.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Fire Lotus

A Wave washes my pain away, I push into the oceans to seek bottom.
Never ending whiplash; a sense of chaotic serenades. The Fire Lotus Remains Steady. 

Catatonic states keep me awake. Eyes crossed and tongue bent inwards in dismay. 
Surely the moon beam has entered the cross roads of ethereal ways.
My third eye is activated. And I see past the dimensions of dark and day. 
A Never ending walk into your kingdom; A sip of wine, Loaf of bread. A kiss from thee; Tara and I am Made~

Surely I laugh with you, your play so magnificent yet by morning it always disappear without a trace. 
Free fall into your heart, keep me away from such cruel tendencies. Which kills everything but I. 

I have taken a vow to keep close to the fire, where thou art born. Where I shall be laid to rest. 
Miles have gone past before we come to close to meet again. But with thy remembrance on my lips, my demons have been slayed. 

Oh I am not a stone,an inanimate lie, In your presence I am skin and blood and heart;I am ALIVE. I am your freedom and thou art my eternal light. 

Tara Tarini. 

Nature of the Word

I am interested in how words and anthropology are related to some extent. The first or root words have directly expressed an idea, so that this creative willed idea, can be transmitted from one to another. Born out of sheer imagination/reality the nature of the word is an intriguing study.
In Sanskrit the word for nature is, Prakriti. Literally it means the thing which is present, one which is present without cause, out of sheer will. In Chinese the meaning of the word nature means that which happens or Is by itself. The process of recognizing nature and ones nature hence largely requires that one give up assumed control in the first place. 
As one loses control, this imaginary whip. One becomes a part of the larger whole. Indeed a gifted experience with nature in full colors can induce this condition. I feel that when one is in prakriti if one acts as one is. Meaning without schizophrenic self will working with an idea of the world instilled, meaning losing the definition of the world as one has learnt or tried to imagine and rather let the moment of now itself show what nature and indeed ones nature is all about. 
This is what all the religions, philosophies and societies have tried to pursue to some degree on another. When one is broken from the path of Nature and surviving with Nature. Then it is indeed a further broken road to damnation. 
Nature has a will like each and every single part and being of nature has a further micro will. Will, I mean is the ability to create, as one pleases. When the collective will of nature if there is such a thing works, then it works for the evolution of its entire collective. If one breaks and tries to evolve separately then one is bound to perish. 
The natural way is to spiritually mentally and physically evolve. Natures will is bent such, when men and women like me try to break away and will our own worlds, create our own imagined evolution, then what will happen is any ones guess. As today's worlds demonstrates to me at various times.
Death is also natural. It is present. It is part and parcel of prakriti. When one dies the energy remains and it is transmuted to another. Reincarnation is something of such sorts. It happens, and it happens by itself. To lose ones control, and accept death and life as our will. This is the most natural way of evolution. 
I of course in my own poetic way believe this evolution is sheer play. A whim. A grand Love. What else can I look and be with nature and imagine? or create? or trust ?
Peace and love to All. 


Night giving away to the twilight, walk on the secret Kund is nearby. hearing the footsteps of gentle fall of glacier water, I walk on. The twilight is setting in force. The clarity of physical sight is overwhelming.
The kund is nearby and that is a surity.
Walk past the mistletoe and step in care full. The water pours in at depth of our vibrations. The faster we are the colder it will be. The more chilled out we get, the water loses its cool. 
I drink deep from the secret kund of everlasting youth. The energy sets me free. The morning is dew filled. As if it had all been pre planned, to the very last point. The rocks are smooth cut at this secret water fall. All poured down from the heavens. All oozing with secret energies. 
My love is like this waterfall, ever passionate in its intensity and ever new. It calls out to me and I bow in sheer gratitude. 
The body is refreshed when the head is immersed with this mineral source. The dissipation is consummated with ever fresh energy of Ice. There is a small rock on which one can stand and see the five or maybe six tiny streams which the waterfall forms before it is pulled to the ground. One Stream for each soul which passes, One for each which has stayed in its peace. The height of the water fall is immense, as if water was tango-ing with the skies and coming down in slow spirals. The water vapours bringing an uncanny cold on the skin. It is fresh indeed and It is sheer power coming towards anything in its way. 
I have felt an immense longing to drown my old self in this waterfall, So that it washes away the old and brings about the new. So that it reminds me that one day I too will change the physical robe for ethereal wings. 
Twilight broadens our horizons. Our abilities and inner senses are attuned to the spirit. The spirit which is. 
The spirit which always has been. I dont mean with respect to time or space. I mean in respect to spirit. 
One feels re born, when one enters the depths of the secret kund, and drinks deep of its elixir. 
No death comes close. Only change. Only transmutation into something grander. 
The Kund brings amrita. Our duty is to drink without reward. Then surely you will go deeper into your cave. bringing out your energies into fore. Power handles Power. 
The water changes the attitude one has come towards it with. One changes in front of, inside water. This is where we have spent our pre birth life. A water haven. 
The secret kund is such, where the spirits play day and night, sometimes harassing the passerby but mostly bringing out such intensity that you will. that you will stand and pay attention. 

Blue Flames~Journey to Rasol

I recently went for a trek in the himachal among the power mountains, which have lasted there for millenia together. When in hills, I try to tune out and tune in. Tune out the garbage in my head and tune in the fresh energy abundant around me here and now.
I visited with my two friends, and did trekking and decent high altitudes where the air is fresh, cool and thin. We started towards a trek to Rasol. This quaint village is located in parvati valley with streams coming down from higher up glaciers which eventually join into the parvati river, which becomes the furious beas. The route is relatively easy. The path keeps climbing for over 4 hours for a city person, but the incline is relatively simple. 
The route goes through Challal village which is like a base camp; from here the donkey path winds like a serpent for over two valleys to reach a great height. The cold and peaceful rasol gaon. Located at the top of Parvati, the view from this dazzling height is breathtaking; literally. 
We took ample breaks in between admiring the pristine plastic less beauty of our grand mother earth. Where people were still mesmerized by nature. Where TV could not mean less to me than Turd ever. 
Our trek was rigorous and with cause. We needed to reach before night fall, We ate none and drank loads of water as we continued our journey up. Climbing up a mountain is a slow and patient affair and cannot be effective until one is able to understand that one is gaining with each step the immense energies of that constant rock on this earth, the rock which would have lasted eternities. Witnessing and full of wisdom. 
We reached the village by late evening and spent some time with a friend who we met on the way and belonged to the village. He was a young boy by the name yogaraj around 18-20 years old. He took us to his home and gave us some delicious tea prepared by his family as his grand dad also joined us to chit chat. We were amazed at the view each and every hutment at this height possessed. Nothing less than a picture perfect postcard scenery. 
We took leave of yoga and moved further to search for food, as we had all travelled light especially in terms of energy intake. 
I personally find it simpler to eat less drink more (water), and travel at a constant pace wherever I am whenever i am travelling. 
Now ravaged and legs left sore, we needed to full tank ourselves before the night and the cold set in. We reached a pizzaria shack at these dizzying heights where a local himachali brother called dhooni saw our plight and made us some good wholesome ghar ka khana. We were left re charged and dhooni soon offered us his home to stay for the night. We couldnt have been happier. We left the rest of the people sitting chilling there who were essentially dhoonis friends, and left for his home. Dhoonis house was furthest away from the village with a trekking time in the dark close to almost 20-30 minutes further uphill. The effect was that we reached a small flat land at greater heights, with a small porch and a nice perfect one storey wooden home. Dhooni had good music and a better system and we decided to let some tunes out for devi parvati in the valley, already at this time around 11 pm the entire valley was submerged in complete darkness, and the sky was clear. The time of the month was the new moon and hence we could see enough with this hill sky. more than enough. I myself under this dazzling darkness and starlight could see dozens of shooting stars over the course of the night. It was breathtaking nay, suffocating grace haha !!! 
I saw a beautiful shooting grace star at around 12 30 in the night. A slow trail blazed. I remember it because some time before this event I was reminding myself and my friends about such beautiful stars :)
We sat for long under the night sky, though we were tired with the journey and lack of sleep from the previous night cause of the long travel, but none of this showed on us. Dhooni our friend for the night too was enjoying some company in his lonely hutment away from all civilization. 
We were mesmerized and soon my friends and I made a fire in a local himachali tandoor, to bite off the cold biting wind. The fire/dhuni was kept burning all night long. It was beautiful to see the fire play atop the valley. The only light, the only flame in this whole valley, and we set out shrill screams in between to wake parvati up. Parvati leading higher up to the village dhar set somewhere in the middle of these never ending mesmerizing hill tops. Power over flowed here. 

I have read somewhere of corpse roads. These are paths built all over Europe, perhaps a tradition started somewhere older, older than Christianities influence. Shamanic perhaps. A corpse road is basically made from a cemetery or ends to one. These are paths believed to carry spirits, such as cross roads where supposedly huge immense power is present. Like an axis mundi. A center of the matrix where this world can interact with other worlds. A cemetery road perhaps at times leads through such cross roads. On these corpse roads one can see sometime shining lights, many say that they are generally blue. Like flame spectres, these might be natural energies or perhaps phantoms of the dead. The old school shamans never see a point in describing the phenomenon as much as experiencing its power. 

So well, at around 4 in the morning, our host dhoni who perhaps was very tired had retired to sleep leaving my friends and I to ponder our selves atop this hill. We started seeing a bluish flaming light coming towards us through the slender path which led to dhoonis home. The light moved slowly and we thought the man must be mad or somewhat deranged to be travelling this early in the morning through peril. But these are strange hills and people here are too accustomed to this, but one thing which skipped my mind that night is the fact that hill people rarely travel at night. It is not auspicious for them to say the least. neither safe. 
We see this light for a long period meandering its way towards us, we contemplate whether to wake our friend up, as he might or might not be expecting company, and soon in a matter of minutes the light disappears. The light is not seen again for around 15 minutes by any of us. 

Then it resurfaces and its further away and higher away as well. And it continues to rise in front of our eyes. The climb is slow, As if it was drifting, we had been sure till recent that the light was from the back of a lighter torch, the same ones we were carrying. Yet now when I looked at the light, which was perhaps more distant or higher, it seemed like a dot, a blue flame dot rising slower yet constant above us. 
We contemplated that the man might have been crazy enough to undertake the journey to climb the peak of parvati hill to goto the last village at distant heights, the village called dhar. yet who would be so crazy enough to do so at such great risks. 
The light didnt stop rising for a long time, just kept going above and above in a meandering manner as if it might be following a trail, but so smooth that I couldnt be convinced of that. I just simply thought it was floating easy as if flying to greater heights. And then it disappeared of our sights again suddenly, as if it vanished. We concluded that perhaps some mountain ledge had come on the way and we couldnt glimpse its view. Yet now that I remember when morning rose, I noticed the same hills and there was nothing which was obstructing our view from where the light was coming.
Through the night I had the notion that as there was also a slight waterfall on our way from rasol to dhonis house, that this light might be the natural energy of that spring or well as it might be. 
That this energy too was taking an early morning stroll to great heights. It was such a sensation that I perceived without any preconceived notions or thoughts. 
The morning lent us color to the dark valley and the dhuni kept burning throughout. We had a good session of early morning maggi and Tea to refresh ourselves. A grand breakfast from a grand height. 
The energy had touched me in the night, perhaps a slight corpse road existed in those dizzying heights. which lent us power to witness the great energies of morning twilight in the lap of devi parvati. 

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Outpouring – II

Does one learn how to love?
Is it that one Knows how to love?
Or Is it that one Feels how to love?
Perhaps one sees how to love. Or hears or smells

Or just perhaps one is Love.

When one is born, there is the presence of the doctor, the medicine man or the shaman or a witch. Who looks after the pregnancy, watches over. The birth of a new born.
Similarly when one dies, There is the undertaker or the crypt keeper or the cremation worker to look over. The death of an old soul.
One is always looked over, watched closely. But by whom? Or by what? Some humans in tongue call it god or allah, nature or mother. Aliens or demons, the devil or apostles. The snakes and the foxes. The conscience and the consciousness.
One is looked upon, watched over by love I would speak in silence. When one is growing, love grows within and without her in all directions. Extending forward and backward. Without a tongue or eye. Love cannot speak nor see. She is mute and unbiased. She has not the power for a single effort.
The great thing about this whole get up if you were to believe me is, there is nothing which can work without love. But love cannot make anything work either.
A divine dichotomy.  Indeed. 

Eye of the Storm

A certainty is out to get me. Sometimes preceding with a lot of uncertainties.

A shiny new sickle is in my hands, wet with the fresh rain water on its handle and surface, rain never ending , never ceasing forever near these terrible seas.
It rained here all night and for nights on end. But today the sun shines intermittent of the black clouds, somehow piercing from the corners of these thundering giants to give a little taste of fresh sunshine. The sands have been tightened and held close of all the rain.
I walk towards the ancient summit. It is called netratara. Atleast that is what the ancients used to call the place. It cannot be mistaken or go unnoticed. Lying deep within jungle vines and think forests where even sunlight is afraid to go. Distances generally go unrecognized by me, for am more engrossed in the path, where each direction might take me, how a path winds, meanders to another path. This is more interesting to my feeble brain than mere calculation of distance. But I would have it that to reach netra tara from the coast where I put up takes me more than one and half days.
It is a place un explored. Pristine beauty, to a person who is not accustomed to seeing it in his or her day to day existence. I have no particular insight to why the mountain is named such. All that I know from the fisher men who I habit with is that there is a temple, a ruin. A small yet colossal ruin. A power place.

I have taken patience with the oceans, and they have treated with equal kindness. When one learns about nature. Including about ones self, there is patience which must be taken of utmost importance. Nothing in nature takes place “fast” everything takes only time, nothing else and everything gives everything equally well.

Having spent a decade in human existence in contemplation of my goddess tara with the oceans, I have mastered patience with the terrible seas. They are not a part of the nature of this soul and this soul a part and parcel of them. I set out near netra tara once a month, trod ding carefully and slowly seeing all the encumbering paths which might lead up to her. Never is a route been found. Never anyone who dared to go near the divine hill, standing at the face of what breaks. She has stood resolute like a light house for the damned. For the restless. For the seekers. For the souls who yearn for the heart off the beloved.

A sinking feeling and then a quick rise. Every tree houses within itself a million lives ney! More infinitely more. I look at all the parts of these magnificent beings. They tower, adapted to the saline water which they receive in plenty, the trees near the coast apart from the palms, tower. Further inside, the jungle growth starts up in parts. Here the water is pure fresh; without the salt which even I have got accustomed to.
Women from the little habitat which I reside in the periphery come here to clean the clothes and fill water in their little buckets and take them back.. Sometimes the little chores though demanding are the most fulfilling. Perhaps when we see that all the work which we are to do in this life, is nothing consequential or important or any such garbage, then we might do it best.
The night is half filled with the moon on the periphery. And I have gone as far as I can go in the jungle. I am resolute. I have taken my time to yearn for my love. For the becoming to become and unbecoming. She has not come. She has hid. She has watched in silence, the suffering that her lover has endured. The death which comes on every moment in the absence of her. The meaningless existence in the lack of heart of the beloved.
I must reach Netra Tara. The eye of Tara. The eye of divinity. The eye of the Storm.

The Outpouring

Lingering within my course vein, the shuddering toward a greater outpouring of love.
Towards your delicate feet, where salvation lies for I. awaken every night with haunting memories of my heart up in the sky.

I started barefoot from the beaches at dusk; A great shooting star blazed, its light invincible like the hearts of those lovers, all who meet at the horizon of the endless seas each and every sunset. Hands held together they merge within, just like the sun merging with the seas. Swallowed towards one.
The separation created to pain; The pain so real. The real so hurting, every waking moment and twice fold in dreams. Every part of lovers pore yearn, yearns like a thundering shuddering stormy night, waiting silently in patience for the right moment. A moment for a divine outpouring of rain, of love.

Every night I walk along the shores of these violent seas. The waves step up and drown me. I sink to the bottom every night. Staying there; sitting in silence waiting for my Tara. The guiding light. The light which never fades.
Every morning my body rises from the depths helped and caressed by the waves as my soul comes down from ambrosial planes. Uniting and waiting and uniting and waiting with One.

Years and decades lose meaning, sun he rises and drowns. The winds pour and let go. The moon shades and guides.
Lets the shadow grow and the body decay.

Vines creep onto the mind in bondage away from the heart. Absent of love.
Freedom; a new birth every new moment. The moment when the heart of a dying soul is quenched with life.

The outpouring is spontaneous, where there is love, sensual or devoid. Spiritual and free of attachments. Growing without reason or a constraint of time. This is the love in the hearts of two who are one. The love in the heart of the seeker for the soul. The love in the heart of an eagle for flight. Its nature. It’s the nature of one.

I cough up the water from my lungs and the barnacles off my skin. The sun shines from within my mind. I can see the darkness receding. Enlightenment every morning and ah ! every night!

An albatross spots these bones on the wire. Swoops down and blocks the walking path for me. Looks intently then gets bored. Is he or she? In a want to communicate? To speak. To meditate on one? The lips open, and a half eaten bird comes out and falls in front of me. Unlearn the albatross croaks. Undo he whispers. UnKnow and UnBe. Linear you are not bones on the shingle.. You are formless and action less. You are the moment , the experience and the perceiver in one. Of one.
All of what is , is love, is love , is love. I S L O V E
I un-derstand

The Musing: Tara Thy Grace!

Part IV The Snowflakes of Eternity; The never before seen Winter: The Night

Amongst Shadows so soft ;we find ourselves…

We walk on the edges of losing ourselves, Night is clear. The moon is complete and rests placid in the great blue sky. She in her drunken beauty shrouds any and all in the sky. She lies in the violent seas on the western coast. As we watch together; Her alter self (her reflection) moves like a brazen belly dancer on the ripples so ferocious. All in passion pulled to the sky. The waves cry in separation;
I too feel ripples from within myself, as I am pulled to the luna who rests so calm on my shoulders. So free; dreaming and dreaming sweet. In this moment amongst shadows so soft… we find ourselves as one.
Suddenly tara; you get up; whispering in my ear… ‘So Love, you think You have understood what it is that is Mine? …. ‘
There is a little wicked smile on your childlike face, and you turn and run on the shore away, The moon up makes for light and shadow to play like puppets on your body.

You glisten.
You effortlessly delight.
You run on the waves drenching your feet

Cool sea breeze grips me tight
Your hair dazzles
as you run out of my sight.

There is a cove here on this virgin beach. You have come here since your childhood. Seeking to be alone away from the slight of hand which makes the world so cruel. So needless and so artificial.
You kept your mercy here. Safe. You kept your self hidden here (so I imagine). But as I move forward. I choose to know more. I choose to see more.
I walk towards your inner recess of peace seeing but your footprints in the sand. You are no where to be seen.
There is a sound soothing inside. Enough moonlight to see in moments which matter
You play a conch soft. You make it sing. It makes me dive deep.
You put it aside; and you speak ‘There can be but one sound; one moment; one choice on a night such as this. One moon; One cove; One shore; One great bountiful core… There is not enough space for two love. There is not enough space for two’

I sit embracing you. You embraced a fool; a servant of thine. Effortless it is now to me. Tara seems undivided. Tara is whole. You have reminded the world of an outpouring of a moment. You have reminded me of the outpouring of innocence. Of One great Love.

The High Tide reaches peak tonight. The water enters the cove; comes closer to our bodies inter twined; immerses us completely. Shakes us ; drowns us.

But we are already immersed.
In an outpouring of infinite Light. Of unity which immerses itself. 

The Musing : Tara my Saviour!

Part III Silent Prayers of Changing Autumn: The Evening / Twilight

Life is at great stretches
Series of nothingness repeated
Moments of celebration
Bestow wisdom; love
Moments such as these
Can never return; never be

Be like a distant dream
Faltering and falling
Finding a center within thee
These silent prayers of autumn
Have shown me your vision, it seems.

The sunset at the distant corners make the great desert more haunting; the entire solemn land of Girnar wears ochre robes. Sitting on small hilltop, contemplating the shape shift of the sand dunes. Once so great now reduced once more to sand. Once more to be risen near the sky. Changes within myself such it is. Everything is broken and dancing in flames! But my center has remained constant. Never shape shifted. Only grown without limits..
The love which I hold for you in the palm of my hand is like sand. Worth nothing in this world. But it shines from one mesmerizing silicon crystal to the next.
At the distance I hear drums. As twilight grows. The beats become closer. They are the sound of my heart beating. Beating oh my love for thee. No one else could there be. Words dumbfound. Thoughts repeat. But my being grows ever more in your presence,  In your silence oh goddess, savior of my broken soul; wind of the desert unbound. Thou, who keeps this servant at her feet!
The trumpets and beats peak. The echo in my soul. Hand grips my shoulder firm. Before I look around you are in front. Is this a mirage? Water to the dying man. The great life teasing at a mans last moment in separation for eternity??
Most profound as I drop to my knees and I notice the enigma of your golden center. thy navel. The center of the world as wise speak. As the winds howl all around us. We are caught inside a whirlpool. And your body trembles ever so lightly. Every so gently as the stars on your navel come alive. Most profound I must say!
The sand covers our bodies intertwined. Kept alive in this twilight moment. Your gentle vision peaks to the skies above and Lo! You make me feel alive. You spread your wings angel. But I wont let you go, not this time. Not this time.

A higher Love.
A gentle touch,
Spreads to dissolve me.
Somewhere in this cosmos we are put
But we are put exactly where we need to be. We choose to be!
Tender kiss of my lover. A Love which keeps eternity .
Saints, Your redemption is stolen
She lies beside me, held in my hands. In each and every speck of this holy sand!

We need not speak. We need not think. Apart
We are one. In purity. In laughter. In a stolen glance. In darkness. In shining Jyoti.

 Timeless is this play; Timeless partners in this play. Left alone and we try to stray.. So I pour wine down your neck ; caress your back, it leaves me with more to crave. No need for satisfaction today. I choose/want/need/demand for more of you as twilight is complete. Glistening Night comes our way.
The black night comes our way. Leaving us together; alone.  (finally it making sense)
Warning : All inhibitions which bind are to kept at bay…

The Musing : Tara my Redemption!

Part II Cruel summer of Desire & Longing: The Afternoon

Found nothing. Lost everything. The illusions of separation keeps me drinking ever more. The wine. The salt in my tears.
My shrine of hope is amidst fields of gold. If you are to ever glimpse a sight of endlessness; come, come to the refuge of the world. Tara pith. The infinity residing here in these fields would engulf. The unison in which each grain moves with wind; The entire world quakes. The earth shakes here.
Dancers lose themselves within dance. I realized that this was true. When the dance of compassion oh Tara; was You!
Their beneath the great banyan I saw you. I knew you. My heart was yours. It never was parted. Dressed in deep red of desire; of passion. I saw your blossoming. Moving slowly under the shade you kindly gave no heed to externals. You kindly gave your sight to me!
It seemed to me as if the entire fields were dancing with you. They were dancing for you!
In this holy hour. In this holy instant. What is that boon you wish for? The gods asked.
‘There is nothing I can ask for at such a moment. All that could be done was to be thankful’
And then you looked at me; twice in so many eons. With a gentle hand uplifted you called one to one.
With the ears adorning sweet diamonds. Your hair open; wild; covered by the flowers that the gods showered seeing you child. Your eyes open gazing; not searching. Calm and on Fire! Like the sun above. Even the sun seemed to have given itself wholly to you… Petals fell where your bare feet graced. How I would die to be at your feet. How I could never foresee my redemption. A thing of certainty to come.
A pearl adorned your neck as it gently lay between your swaying breasts. Moving hypnotic. It held me in a trance. It held me in rapture… It blew me away.
Your dance oh so ever slow. So ever seductive for all of life itself. You would have me torn and mended. You are the way. You are the life.
Your lips parted for the first time; spoke with the melody of the lord as he plays the flute. It blew me away.
In an instant we were racing down fields, past them without care; they parted where we were to be; We raced like little children, laughing innocently. Our hearts raced. Our bodies pulsed with life. We left the wind behind. Left the world aside; and a kiss amongst the fields of gold that even intensity could not define. That kiss which brought me back alive.
In an instant the great banyan found me, I was standing alone under its immense shade. No sight of what had been. I stood mesmerized; that dreams could be so cruel too. Could light be snatched away from innocence so swift!
Finding petals under my feet. Fresh in desire. Fresh in their longing. I sit down and smile innocent. All my life’s culmination are for this my love. The moment where you and I shared that golden kiss.

The Musing : Tara My Liberation!

Part I Eternal Spring like honey: The morning

Hills sprinkled softly with the night dew, each and every leaf, every morsel of grass on the ground sweet with cool water. The sun rises from behind distant Nanda Devi. The majestic crystal mountain! Darkness converts subtly to a dawn which calls to attention. Single rays of the sun make for this moment like none other.
Walking on a rough patch aside shrubs and trees now alive. With birds singing. The silence converts to slow music. I look in awe. Treating my gaze gentle lest I be enlightened so readily.
 Crossing the rivulet on the wooden bridge. Hear the words spoken by the river. Today is not a day like any other. Look. Gaze. See. This was to be!
On a shore she rests; From ashore she sees me; I lost in the transience.. was she to being me ashore? I was to wander aimless. Would she find a center in me.She breathes me in a moment. And leaves me to wander no more.
Her slender feet dipped in the cold flow. Reflecting mirror; The mist progressing swiftly, and lo! I couldn’t see clearly. Dressed in simple white. Her hands were making little gestures, mudras moving from the earth to the sky..
I knew not what nymphs looked like. I felt I had known. My love in an instant satiated. I had never been so drowned in my tears of joy.
She was feeding fish in silence. The birds near her on tree tops watched and chirped. The child of natures bounty; and my vision was hindered once more by the white mist
One look and could you leave what held you? Move on with certainty towards center of love.
The heart is a reflecting chamber. A thunder to strike it and it shall echo for eternities to come.
Before I can make my way down from the bridge to the shore. Shes disappeared. Become with the river; one. I find an anklet left there. Not a couple. Just one. Maybe shes the other anklet I wonder. Verily she is the sound I choose to dance to…

Saturday, May 16, 2009

False Notions of Meditations

There was once a sage who meditated for a million years,
And he didn’t achieve anything, no powers, no quietness, no wisdom
And no emancipation
And tired he got up and cursed himself one time, and left the act of meditation
Do you realize that this was the flaw, the act is not an act meditation is a state of being, not to achieve anything or to get something, or to lose even
It just is and it will always be

False Notions of Time

Let us together consider the nature which causes the existence and subsistence of time.
a)      The perception of time is in all beings alive, the ability to perceive time is due to change in the external source , which causes the ability to sense
b)     Time is continuous and not plural, it is that the successive events and change of environment that makes one perceive time, and hence time is said to be as one, this is concept of one time, this does not mean time at different points is different, though this is the real nature of time,
c)     Time moves in both directions, it is the ability to perceive time which moves in one direction, time essentially holds still, at one point always while the perception of change makes time move in one direction
d)     The ability to percive time moves into the future direction while, we actually perceive time from the past (gen rel theory). This is dichotomy
e)     Time will not exist without either a) the perceiving sense and b) the change of the external source
f)      Memory and recognition takes place due to time, and loss in memory like when one is very young or very old is because this is when the individual is put back close to the original sense of no time,
g)     Time is like a plane or as suggested nowadays that it is like a sphere, time plane can extend to infinty or to a sense of sphere where there is no beginning or end but there is definitely a boundary, either the case can be present
h)     Time is non moving and appears to move at the rate the perceivers feels that it is due to the unit which measures time, basically light, if light was to move faster or slower then we can say that time will move faster or slower, hence we conclude time is a measure of speed again this is the measure of change of the external source,
i)       Let us take the initial boundary condition as we understand it, the big bang theory says that when the universe exploded approximately 14 billion years old, then the matter which was bulked together starts moving apart, now as the matter moves further away at faster and faster speeds then we conclude that the time is slowing down to us , for if the matter at the point of the singularity is absolute 0, as we conclude for if there is no singular movement and organism at this point then the whole time concept is not present, and as the particles move further apart to form huge masses, then the they are moving further and further away from the initial singularity point which says that we are moving further at some speed of light and as we reach closer to the speed of light then the distance between individual events in the universe reaches further away, this causes the perceiver to see that the events which happen at close intervals to be happening at a larger time ,
j)       Some might argue validly that as said before that time is the plane which measures change and has no function correlating with distance, as of such which is partially true, for we can say that the time is a continuous event, or perception nothing related to distance but this also means that as distance between the events which cause change take place and point of when no change takes place, then the time plane itself is distorted, in simpler terms, if we are perceiving change after more periods or more time when the events itself are occurring together then time between the events is elongated but this of little consequence, as we say that as distance increases then the perceiver just intuits the time plane in a longer “time” but the concept of time itself is neither distorted nor destroyed
k)     Superposition in the time plane is not impossible, it is quite possible and very easy to achieve , this is the partial concept of a repeated event, or a deja-vu. This is because time is not horizontal but rather a plane which is stacked one above the other, it is all at one point, both time and space are correlated , as time can be reduced to a point so can space,. So in this concept it is that deja-vu can occur, a feeling or intuition that an event has already taken place or that an event might take place is due to the fact the mind or the object or perception already knows that the event at hand for as shown before that the perceiver is the one who creates the notion of time being moving either in backwards or forwards direction , as time does not move at all , hence change in the environment can be felt at any time
l)       This shows either or 2 possibilities a) That the perceiver holds a key that can make him notice or intuit to him the possibility that there is no motion in the time plane itself, and there is absolute motion in the space field, hence here objects can create a change in themselves but as they happen at the same time hence we can forsee or look back at events at different time or b) we can say that the point of singularity has not been disturbed in itself, that there is no change in the environment around the perceiver hence there is no change in the time field hence the concept of time is not a horizontal or vertical but a point . There are 2 possibilities of time space field
m)   The time Field is effected by forces, the perceiver feels a difference in time when the field itself though invisible is effected by gravity or such other forces, though gravity itself is the weakest force but it has the advantage that it holds its strength due to mass, and there is intense mass here(wherever here is –for here is defined by what we are trying to define here)  The intense gravity in this place cause the distortion of matter further in a faster or slower process, this makes us perceive time as being fast or slow, but again I must emphasize the difference in a relative time and absolute time plane, for the relative time plane is which the perceiver feels, this can be In one direction or many , it can be measured and is individual but the absolute time plane is the actually  universal, and it only measure of change and nothing else, and hence it what is called non-plural and continuous, it is not successive like the relative,
n)     Also there is the possibility that the time plane(the relative) will move faster or slower not due to the rate at which external agents cause it to, but rather due to the perceiver himself, for as everyone feels that when one is enjoying ones senses then the time moves very fast but when the times become difficult or strenuous on the senses then the time moves very slow, this is a common observation and is noticed till now only in the human psyche and hence it is not known whether this type of distortion is present in only this race or others too<  but this is a very real observation and this opens the possibility that the time plane can be altered by the perceiver to move at any rate possible, and if this is possible it is possible also to make time move at fast rates or to cause time to stand still, this I\has been experimented with chemicals in the human mind to give trips which induce great speed at which the mind perceives the external agents and greater speed for thinking and also other chemicals which cause the mind to slow down to a level where most sense a feeling of calmness of peace where the brain activity ceases to be
o)     The perceiver can change the rate at which the relative time field is perceived, this is interconnected with the field of emotions, and as of intuition itself. A Time field may feel very small during the emotion of pleasure while it may look very long when viewed during a period of suffering similarly external intoxicants can change the rate at which a time may be viewed, this all goes to show that the time field is not at all constant and the relative time field phenomenon is either changed according to how the perceiver views it, or how the objects of perception itself change, also to see that the object that are undergoing change, if they are intelligent life forms, then the rate at which they see themselves changing can be different than the perceiver, if the object of perception does not see or feel itself as undergoing change then it may be viewed by itself as in a state of no-time whereas the perceiver in this case might see the object as changing,
p)     Time cannot be perceived without a relative change taking place between 2 different objects, if there is less than 2 of an object than we can say that the even if change takes place even then the object will remain at a state of no time, hence change cannot be the phenomenon on which time is based completely, some may argue that for a change to be perceived there is needed the presence of an object but this is not true as we are discussing the absolute case of change where a body might undergo itself a change of state only there is no perceiver to view it, This shows that, that object will remain at a state of no-time., This also brings us to the proof that at parts in the universe which there is no perceiver can be taken to be in a state of no-time but as human kind works on the basis of probability than we notice that most parts of the universe can be charted even though they are not and hence it is said that they are in the same time field phenomenon, but simply speaking it is noticeable that the things that human kind does not perceive are quite literally not there for us, and hence this shows that this is partially because of no time phenomenon

False Notions of Life

How is death different from a person who has no eyes, is deaf and dumb and has no sense of touch, is he even alive if we call life as what the brain interprets when the senses are utilized, then that would be not my definition of life.
The story unfolds as this , one day the omniscient Is was present sitting around in bliss and suddenly it thought that it had to experience itself, to feel how blissful and how the is actually is! So it created individual self’s of itself like breaking itself up into an infinite number of pieces, and these were called the individual souls, now they would go through the experience of separation, to be as if that they were separate from the is in the first place and that they had to get back to their home, the original is , what they did not realize was that the actual realization that they themselves were the Is. That was all that was required, the concept of Advaitya which Adi Sankara proclaimed (though the messenger was not quite as good as the concept but their doesn’t lie the point), the advaitists say that all is god and that is what we hear from our parents too when we are small , they tell us that God is everywhere, what a simple thought but so hard by the mind to visualize, this is partly because the brain thinks that different objects are fundamentally different because they are perceived by the mind as different, this is true now if the man I described with no senses, or all senses defective was to be present would be able to differentiate between anything and hence he would visualize as everything, this is obviously not the way of realization, but if you look at all different forms of yoga which were present in this world, it would be easy to conclude that all these different spiritual methods, were fundamentally leading to a stage when the mind starts seeing the unity, as if the differences are present in all inherent things and at the same time that all of them were simply same! This is advaitya, this is what bhakti yogis supposedly feel when they are in love with their deity, this is what true lovers feel when they are separate, they see the other in all and everywhere.
This is the Dichotomy which Is present in the world. At one point the mind feels and believes that all around the objects present are different , and at different time it believes that what is present complies to unity.
This is the final step before self-annihilation is complete,
The art of war is the fundamental philosophy required to live in the divine, it is construction through perpetual destruction, war is conflict, war requires the sense of duality for a war is not possible with ones own self. That is impossible, the ancient Indian philosophy of negation is present in the art of war. It negates everything in the world as not the self and hence you get to reject everything as not the self . this is similar to what the art of war is but not quite. The art of war is essential transmutation of the self 

UnHoly Alliances

Atop a hill , on a distant shore.. they all say the same thing
In the silence of this unholy night. Of the bliss which pours from the masters eyes. Foretell the same things.
Maybe I am not meant for such things. Like the fear of the fears.
And the sum which make me the center of all things of this unholy alliance.
Where the spirit gives itself up to the night. Where the family divulges, such minute details of its pain. That it surprises even me.
Where the taste mix with the pain . and the wolf of heart disappears into the mist

And eyes which beacon you In awe. I tell you about those. They are the things which I have made you out to be. In competition with others, we may never rise. And become what we set out to be.

Sometimes I can see things as they come toward or further away from me. Sometimes they take me completely by surprise. I prefer the latter as usual. And that’s no lie.

the Father and the spirit, conspire toward the creation of the holy ghost. In man it becomes a recluse, seeking fate at all costs, and this costs man his freedom.

And as this lies by my side, I am kept company by the silence of the serpents, on my sepulture. They hiss not, they strike not. They are in the ultimate repose.

All the misfortune I have brought upon myself is due to the grave I smashed in that old cemetery in that distant land so much away, that it seems too old to even be a memory.
That curse lives inside me, making me part of the unholy alliances.

Cross Roads

Negroids are dancing in flames
            Somehow making me laugh
            While the burnt embers are lowered to the pit
            Where they make our food,
            And we all look towards the sky ,
            To see the ashes fly away with awesome speed
            Its five in the morning and the sun is drowning in a pool of slime
            So shameful is the rhythm in my head, full of lust
            Cant hold onto the camels back for all of my life
            And somewhere in this desert, I shall feast on the ends of my life string.
            Friggin cross on the crossroads,
            Nailed to it are snails of the highest power,
            They in a twisted song sing
            ‘where would you walk to now, slow as us,
            u say that u will reach where we are, but the song is slowing you down , the rhyme is keeping you engaged, so what is there more than to get crucified.. just like us’
            No lines , only the dance, only the pace of madmen in the middle of the universe. So bewitching, jewels in the her hair. They are blinding me.
            Timeless are these worlds, pathless are the ways leading to them
            Somehow I belong to them . peaceful remembrance of our love torn between the ends of this war.
            And the cry of all of us, destitute and bastards in the middle of the creators sleep, it wakes her. Only to scourge us with the fires burning us to ashes, whilst our embers fly to the great white sky as the sun turns subterranean in the middle of the desert on this lonely forbidden cross-road. 

Ode to Humanity

I am not a big fan of human kind, the version of life that in today’s day seems to be only focused upon itself. The day’s pass and humans ...