How lovely the silence of growing things
A new feeling arises, a completely welcome feeling that expresses a deep realization. I feel I am finally arriving home. This mystery, this majesty, is my home, my original place. It is what my heart longs for and loves more than anything else. I realize I have always loved this mystery, and always longed to melt into it, even though I did not know consciously what I loved and longed for. I knew I loved the truth, but I was not aware that the truth is ultimately this inexplicable reality. I see that I have always felt exiled, that I have always been seeking to return home.
From the very beginning, I had been hearing only one message from every Holy Place and every Holy Scripture:
Our longing desires alone are the cause of our troubles.
For me this message was only a jumble of words which I could hear but had no awareness of its profundity in my life. However, today I not only understand its significance but also feel it. What is its purest form and shape?
The fulfilment of a minor longing swallows up a long stretch of life, but still we cannot have the satisfaction of having achieved completion.
The cycle of these desires consumes our whole life. Still we fail to have a sigh of relief, a pause in the mental wanderings, and the stay of the intellect because:
Whenever I descended into the depth of my being, I found how dreadful storms arise from the narrow egotism, marking the circles of desires at a distance of many lives from our individuality, and how we, bearing the arduous wanderings in wildernesses, collect the rigorous experiences of woes and troubles only.
When I realized the existence of our desires and passions, then along with my foolishness, madness, and darkness of ignorance, I understood the cause of my incapacity and inability. Then I found my repentant being struggling and convulsing to come out of the dark-coloured design of moments, but the consciousness of my helplessness and despair tormented my life and suffocated my breaths. Then, the tear of my eye, along with the sharp stream of quietude in darkness, striking at the throat of egotism, dedicated itself to the Unknown.
But today, I receive the horoscope of desires which gives details of its birth and death and begins to guide my existence. A drop of unique, matchless experience gives me riddance from the heat of the hot desert of desires.
My one step proceeds towards the path, but the being cries halt.
These paths of awareness, covered with rising steps, the movement of tranquility and satiety staying on in my being and in its current beautiful narration, my incoming and out-going breaths, have a smooth and musical flow.
Just as no breaths are possible without the body and the consciousness, in the same way, no step can proceed without any direction; and this direction depends on our longings.
Longing = the cause of trouble.
Longing = the indication of direction.
Longing = the beginning of life.
Longing = the watchman of its own individuality.
We wish to get rid of it, but as a first step in the journey of life it is the basic source. Surrounded by the unique experience of these longing desires, I was watching all the mountains spreading in all directions—the mountains gigantic in stature but pigmies in character, these aspects are matchless and rich in beauty. In the same way every part of life is having within its fold infinite aspects of life and it was expressed and exemplified by the experience of today. For a long time life had been giving me the consciousness of this uniformity of appearance. If I were to see through the window of desires, all life would become one and would give me a proof of commonality and make my life cool.
This expanded life, whether it takes the shape of the whole world, confines itself to small words, or catches in the meshes of individuality, takes the shape of its own self—all means one and the same:
The consciousness of all feelings and sensations
The experience of every emotion
The experience of every direction
The depth of each word
The commonness of all life
The shapeliness of every commonality
All is one and the same
Longing: If it brings forth in life woe and trouble in the shape of heat—the same longing brings forth flowers and fruit on the thorny branches of life.
Longing: If it spreads in the shape of ego, it makes life limited and singes it. The same longing, if confined to the positive sense, makes existence boundless and enables it to take the loftiest flight.
Longing: If it sets on the journey of life, takes its birth from the womb of lust, rage, attachment, greed, and hauteur, setting off fear, worry, suffocation, and helplessness; then longing itself turns us in our own direction, it opens the path to peace, comfort, and happiness teaching life how to fly in the firmament of freedom.
Longing: If it is the symbol of life, the definition of fire—it both singes life and makes the gift of life.
Longing: If it becomes a cinder in the worldly attire and scorches life, longing then turns to the ‘self’, becomes a cool fire and adorns and purifies life; then becoming the message of warmth in life, it also undertakes a tour.
Longing: If it awakes at the sight of imperfection, discontent, and unrest when my disappointed life longs for self-welfare, then I feel within the lack of knowledge, love, and peace.
In no time did this longing put on the garb of feelings and emotions.
Feelings gave birth to curiosity,
Curiosity wiped out all woe and trouble and taught
To fly high in the open sky.
Longing: If it makes us conscious of feverish heat, in the shape of fire, destroys life; the same longing transforming itself into feelings and emotions and after warning my life, begins to take a sip from the cup of life, grand, and Universal.
My moments moistened themselves in the demonstration of my Love; they would buy gifts for people. My tears wished happiness and good luck for them. Even the firmness of my determined footsteps could do anything for them. On the contrary, they all bestowed upon me the title of a crazy, foolish simpleton!
I—laughed hilariously—laughed to the extreme—laughed to my capacity—laughed whole-heartedly, until I was exhausted. When the brake was applied to my laughter, the train of depression started. Nevertheless, my good sentiments never let me be influenced by these repugnant, crude, or ugly sights nor allowed me to become a party to this roughness.
The moments of today say,
“Dear, are you alone aware of this sense of roughness and ugliness? Does not anyone else? They are used to living in their own feelings and emotions; those were your sentiments. In everybody’s sentiments lies latent the completion of this individuality.”
Today, with the moment flowing through the Window of Awareness, it sees that others are in a happy state. The feelings of others fill me with the realization of my own imperfection; the sadness of all reminds me of my own sadness.
My Life started at the emotive level, needing a material field that was not in my grasp. My Life of material enjoyment and satiety remained complete, but the value of commodities remained poor. It always seemed a folly to me to win praise for a false status, to endure mental tortures, and to pass Life in foolish selfishness. Then how could my pain and unrest vanish? I was not awakened enough to know of it.
I always found the lives of pundits, priests, and Granths is shallow, boring, selfish, false, and stressful. Despite pains and frustrations in their lives, they all looked contented, they slept well at night, and they lived in pursuit of material goods and rejoiced in collecting them, but I was always unhappy. Why?
Was I weak?
Was I off my head?
No, I was neither weak nor off my head. In reality some sense of imperfection kept suffocating me, some hollowness trampled over my existence. At times, my thoughts grew sickly and were lost in the clumsiness of my ————–
It is a unique rhythm or tune issuing from awareness of movements in the shape of a sweet twitter—which manifests itself into infinite shapes and endless frames standing in suspense—what name should I assign to the pose of this deep perception of existence?
Life or Lifelessness?
Life—the definition of this word is very brief and lies merely at the upper surface, but the link of the manifestation, moving about in its inner depth, has refused to bring it into the prison of words. With Life is associated the memory of birth and Death and it again delimits Life. However its rhythmic, melodious character which constitutes boundless Bliss as it contains the rangoli of infinite Life. I greet with great reverence the awareness that has burgeoned from that sensibility of mine. I welcome it whole-heartedly.
Ever since my journey of Life started under the label of ‘Shaheer’, I have remained ignorant of myself, for though my gait was oblique on the track of Life, it was yet sapless and insipid. My feelings sought one way, but I moved in other directions. Standing on the cross roads, in a staggering state, amidst the motion of breaths through the gales of thoughts and the whirlwinds of feelings and emotions—I roamed about so much that, despite my craving for sleep and rest, my existence could never rest at Peace.
This very existence that lay at a distance of miles from rest, which caught in the meshes of suffocation, worry, fear, and helplessness, was eating up the moments of my Life and was no less than Death for me, causing breathlessness.
Suddenly—in this journey of Life for the fulfilment of my greatest wish, when the awareness of my incompletion stung me—my whole direction, angle of vision changed. When the new direction took charge of my restless and convulsive state, I could never make out whose endeavour it was. Whose mercy was it that was falling like rain in this thirsty desert?
This new direction, which I found some five years back, at times sings paeans of separation and detachment along with the joyful songs of spring and at times has romance with the autumnal season. The Beauty of all Time begins to restrict and bind this Life with some personal, individual courage. In the midst of the rhythmic rise and swell of all my feelings, this Life tries to clad this existence in the hard apparel of individuality, at it the heaviness of my binding chains begins to lighten itself.
I, the mad one, can not decide what all this signifies and what direction they suggest.
Today, after an interval of four years and ten months, an inner urge cries halt so forcefully that I cannot describe it; though my Silence had begun four years and 10 months back, this deep Silence of today contains a glimpse of a progressive acme of perfection, which makes my existence stagnant in my Silence.
Suddenly I felt that:
Day or night
Whether I wash the utensils or cook food
I am not myself
My tongue is touching my palate, saliva is flowing from my mouth, and my body is in a relaxed state.
My feelings, caught in muteness, could not bear this unendurable state; the stream of tears dropped, dripping from the corners of my eyes. They began to hum a tune lost in its own story. In search of comfort, my tormented existence lay awake in the lap of rest where a bugle is blowing, not for Life but for Lifelessness; there sobbing sighs, convulsive breaths, and parched moments were enjoying rest in the womb of tranquil moments.
Under the watchman-ship of this non-existence, the being gets fragrant—here one feels the comfort of sleep. The eye is open, but the caravans of reflections have departed. The body is asleep, but the self is awake. Therefore, the preying claw of feelings and emotions being out of sight, I am in the state of relaxation. Then I come to know today:
This state of relaxation—in which moments emanate fragrance, the grandeur and pride of Life and the distinct state of being vivifies itself. At this Time, there is the traffic of Peace and rest in one’s breaths.
To all of the feelings along the way who hurt me, felled me, betrayed me and broke my Being…My Life forced me to see the change I needed in my life and gave me the determination, motivation and a TRUST that I needed to change.
So O my Wonderful Life, You gave me more than you could ever take from me,
so thank you..!!!