“` If I see it through the window of the Ego

“`Being nurtured within me those moments which ever hinted at an unknown direction and the whirlwind of my shortcomings sweeping away all omissions and commissions, began to vanish and life began to perform its duty of displaying its identity. Gradually as the caravan of moments passed on, my awareness, too, deepened its tinge. My perceptions began to see all the changes taking place within two directions. I stood still in bewilderment and my interrupted steps advanced.

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What am I thinking and what am I doing? I stood lost in this confusion, but my feelings and perceptions were gradually absorbed in ‘silence’ and my silence began to lend a garb to these words and the garbs, too, merely touched the words and tended to convert my life into a style—they began to turn words, too, into a style. My stagnant voiceless state watched that awareness which lay latent in this rare, unique conglomeration.
This life is a business transaction of longings and desires, though I feel that if I see it through the window of the ego then it is the flow of actions. If I look upon it with the view-point of a doer, then life is a mere thirst; if I watched it in my emotive state, it is a mystery—this life, and if I use the mirror of my intellect, then life is only life.
Today, my life is simply life if I was to look at it with the untouched feeling of life—the untouched feeling soaked in emotions and sentiments moistens my eyelids.

brown-nocturne

The pilgrimage to this emotive state begins with the self and also ends with the self. It makes life an invaluable pilgrimage. Whether we call it life or ‘self’, it is an experience that binds the two together. It goes on scattering, as well as quietening my latent secrets, my every breath, every action and every step, and brings into relief every emotive state which is only a stage in life and tinges it with experience. 

In fact, as I descend into the depth of the evanescent time, I do not get any consciousness of any life or something akin to it. Life, taking the shape of an illusion, makes the self stand in a voiceless, speechless state and then disappears.

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