Saturday, June 3, 2017

Inexplicable state of being

Once born, and now resound. Once crossing the path now changing your sanity and how.
Looking hither thither; it raises itself to the staff. So it may crucify itself at your ignorant behalf.

It is present in the sky and earth, in your breath and sorrow. Existing without reason, the being-ness is forever anew. Yet it may not come forth at any time, for lifetimes and instances beyond the reason of rationality. It exists shrouded in mystery. In darkness and a step away from the void. Looking for a dimensionless key - to set it free.

You may have seen it on the face of a stranger sometime, in some life. Where there may have existed a hope for something beyond your ignorant needs. Needs which made you come down from the Brahman, and now makes you act in strange ways.

What you call as your personality; your identity and indeed some of you call it your life. Your being here on earth and the only one you care to recognize. This ignorant half self at best makes you go through life run hither thither without sitting in peace. In one place without words in silence looking now here.

The being resounds since the time of birth, like a powerful drum, but without striking of two vessels - the noise is the beat which makes life go in a direction or next. Makes the flower whistle past your nostrils and may you smell it blessed. All this is in the hands of the hand less, the minds of the mindless and of course souls who possess demons in them

It is without need for existence, it is without the need for being born. There is no consensus of what is and what is not. There seems to be no end to it in terms of any dimension which can be accounted. It is bliss and inexplicable.

For the saints, it is the only way of life. For the householder a name to recount in times of distress, for the youthful a figment of imagination and for the dead - truth in manifold terms.
For the young'uns whose eyes mirror this indeed strange explanation of experience - it could be the closest one could come to the nature of this state of being.

What you know about this stranger that is yourself - you will repeat to find as long as you remain ignorant. There will be no words which can save the truth from being seen or found. The zen say that it is ether and sky, it is the space between ether and sky. It cannot be seen or found. It cannot be sensed and remain without being sensed. The zen dictates that it is death which forms the basis of all life; it is strange bliss; the foundation of everything alive.

I bow down manifold times, to the strange power that drives us all. In a single tune - a black hole of consciousness takes away multiple lifetimes of struggle. In a single instant - we can be who we were intended to be. But this single instant is a product of struggle unknown. It is because of the ease with which we undergo the pain of ignorance is why we are born to be enlightened.
Zen dictates that we cannot speak that we cannot describe, and even when we can - it is better to be left unsaid. It is better to let go. To let that cannot be; this strange inexplicable ness of being - be confounded to itself.

In a strange dimension of par, where there is no beginning and no end, where life has taken forth strange dimensions and without restraint and where death and life have no boundaries and no bifurcation specific. This strange bliss of being, which cannot be told or showed. Which cannot be seen or felt. Which is everywhere yet nowhere is what is in truth the only thing worth the effort.

So you may sit still or run errant, you may fulfill your desires and trample many others' in turn. You may be silent and you may be all forth. There may be enlightenment in the palms of your hands highlighted or the death of a dog. There seems to be consensus on how this inexplicable state calls forth and takes back. There seems to be no end to the enigma which engages consciousness and then dissolves it back without care..

Peace and Joy

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