Person’s thirst (passion) and devotion itself takes the shape of process or activity and appears in action. Our faith and devotion take shape in keeping with our mental tendency. Thus When the topic of my interest is love, then my quest will be for love only. My attachment with love will be my devotion to love. Later, this devotion becomes dedication. Devotion always returns in the shape of devotion. Thus, if I say the whole world should be happy, beautiful and peaceful, this pious wish is my inclination or tendency, my attachment and devotion to the world. When I have such love and devotion to the world, its fruit will also be there. The world may or may not be beautiful, but this devotion of mine will certainly make me beautiful. The spreadoutness of this life begins from me. When my life becomes beautiful, the world, too, will become beautiful; for the creation will appear according to our own point of view, or you may say that our fruit will be according to our intention because life flows according to our feelings and conditions. This very feeling becomes an idea when then taking the shape of an activity or process becomes an action and thus reveals itself.
My past moment gives proof to my journey. These moments of today also bestow upon our small lives the boon of a bigger Life. This is that stage of my Life, which takes the shape of a question and gives completion to my journey with the help of my daring firmness and powerful enthusiasm. Then all this, whatever it be, are Beautiful feelings and perceptions, like flowers and fruit which gives fragrance and taste. Friends, today, this question, “Then What Is This?” My Life answers: This is my freedom which makes me conscious of my servitude It is also that Light which abolishes my servitude By becoming a means of self-communion, it awakens the capacity in me which, at the beginning, led my Life to budding and today at the end… It goes on, pausing a little…>…>>>
— What were the times that had abolished the feeling of worry from our life. So that life was simply life. In its search the rhythmic character of my breaths began to pervade my moments. Moments:- — The suffocation of the individual had made him totally free from care. — The false show of relationship had really inspired me. — The man’s wild eyes had given the depth of pity. — Woman’s jealousy had taught broad-mindedness and tolerance. — The bounds of religion had shown nature. — The pain of greed and attachment had given me freedom. — The uniformity of the universe had taught me uniformity and homogeneity. And I would see:- = How a slavish individual walked so arrogantly? = How one could exhibit any pride in his slavish state? = Why a person kept an army of facilities in self defence? = If self defence was really assured? One becomes even a murderer in self defence. Why? Thus, the marks of slavery scattered all around, enabled me to secure my freedom. The slender cover of false formality taught me to express my feelings to express themselves blatantly. The remaining wall of discrimination was demolished by nature itself. Then how can one welcome slavery in the name of any country and any religion? Why should one? Though I understood every irony latent in me, yet it would sometimes become a mere fancy for me and sometime a mere dream. I began to think how, keeping in view his surroundings a person can move about with the desire for freedom. Then Aashthawakra’s words thumped my feelings on the back and said that it was possible; and Tao’s life too assured me that in reality people behave like that. I kept watching that——-
Life flows, life teaches, life steals, life empties, and I only I nothing else. My life’s lover is new and fresh and beloved freedom. Creation is temple, path is silence, door is nature, guru is life, subject is everything, priest is mind, candle is understanding, incents is love, worship is trust, and pray is surrender. Today at this temple’s door, subject is beyond-Emptiness…
Wow! Always I was lucky. The Life smiled at me. The Life decided to absolutely destroy my life in front of my eyes. Over and over. And it was so wonderful, it was so liberating. This’s a wonderful feeling. Then: For me there is no Down, there is no Up, there’s only Life. Hunnnnn.(Peaceful Breaths) WOW!
Every moment is a moment of discovery and transformation in the ascent of the self to the heights of perfection. Each moment is lived and guided by this single purpose, and the periods between events fade as one abides in the unbroken spirit that begins to soar high. No room for regrets or useless worry as everything is done perfectly—not perfection as a result of action but perfection through action. The journey is the destination.
While travelling through the depth of life, this existence today finds itself blossoming. I see today the reality of this universe which stands far beyond my words to describe. The moments spent on its reflection look like a heavy weight on this existence. Is there no other means for the expression of this consciousness except the length and depth of the breaths booming through silence? In the murmur of the fast blowing gale, the awareness of this profound silence is an echo that swallows my thoughts. It: Wants to indulge in a giggle, but is voiceless. Wants to rain, but has no raindrop. Which is the understanding of life, which bedecks life in the garb of ignorance. The silence of death which lays life on the bed of relaxation. Whatever I am—what I am despite not being— despite not being, I am—Perhaps I am infinite. What name may I give it? Shall I be able to recognise this existence while passing through these moments? Shall I be able to recognise my existence which is passing through my moments today? My wish has had the element of negation concealed in it. My thirst contains satiety. My pause hides motion. Some part of life is hovering within me to familiarize me with some profound experience; and its echo forms this symphony that I—what should I call it? For I realize nothing is left to do or to become, then should I call it as to what it is? My existence? My life? Existence is stagnant life that is interrupted. What name should I assign for this speed in action in this halted existence, to the life emerging from this interrupted life? It was half past four in the morning when I dreamt that I was endeavouring to climb a thin but very lofty wall. I was, at the same time, very careful to maintain my balance. I was in deep fear that if I fell, then? Despite my fear, I stood on the wall. When I opened my eyes the world of dreams disappeared and the dream of the past one hundred years started. Yes, the worldly dream started. It welcomed me in all its glory and splendour. Occurring during my closed eyes the mental dream: Running in my open eyes, the mind’s worldly dream. Then, moistened in the experience of the hissing feelings and perceptions, my existence became stable in deep calm and sober silence and it seemed as though whatever was motionless and still in this visible as well as invisible world. That it is I: Who am in motion despite apparent stillness Who, despite being incomplete, is complete Who remains calm and quiet in the midst of noise or hubbub If one takes one’s balanced stand in this experience, what name should be given to such a one? Just as today’s’ fresh morn has spread a new aroma in my feelings and perceptions, likewise it has made me perceive the unique layer of ‘Bhakti’ (devotion) and faith. It is a most pleasant and progressive journey that asks questions. Then what answer can we give to lend grace and charm to life? ‘Bhakti’—this word that circulates in my breaths is the word that has ever held me in its awareness and melted me. I see: I have ever been keenly aware of the presence of several read as well as heard words; and I never thought of reaching that stage, for the besieging consciousness of my incapacity and inability ever pricked me like a thorn. Words like ‘saints’, ‘seers’, ‘sages’, ‘devotees’, ‘timeless’, ‘formless’, ‘attributeless’, ‘virtuous’, etc.—and their elevation catches me in the hot grip of nothingness. The shriek echoing in the bones, helplessness scorched in sobbing breaths—wants to burst like an ebb and flow to singe itself in the dreadful heat of the thirsty being. The idea of the grandeur of such words I cannot have, despite exploration. The words which delimit our life, words that do not allow life a moment’s respite, words that take existence in their grasp and cause it cancer—are no longer traceable today. If one can attain to divinity with Bhakti or devotion, then where is my ‘bhakti’? If someone is called a seer or sage, by virtue of his holy recitation and deeds austere, then where is my recitation and austerity? Neither ‘bhakti’ nor prayer and Austerity (asceticism) Then what is the nature of these feelings and perceptions which enrich our existence and make our life extremely beautiful? Today, my feet move about, but not I. Today, my hands rise, but not I. What name should I assign to such a state of awareness? For—because of cataracts of relaxation flowing in my smouldering existence, these words lost their grandeur when I lost my ‘I’ness’ or ‘ego’. For if I descend into the lap of the past moments of this flux of life, I realize that if the painful suffocation, suffocating despair, stinging, venomous helplessness, the tormented state of thirsty feelings, days and nights passing in fear, and the whole life consumed by worry— all that was life. Then today, when all that has vanished, when the caravan of tormenting moments is not only in peace but even at play in the colourful design, what name should I give to this flow? Today, the freshness of this new morning has made me realize that this is the stage where the heat of big and profound words has subsided. It seems that these words are a mere activity or process, which lending an apparel to the feelings and perceptions of our unique moments, makes them proceed in the world—and which takes in its fold the basic elements of truth, beauty, and goodness— what name should I assign to it? For: It is an awareness which has no name. It is that manifestation which has no being. It is that sensibility which is next to nothing. Because even in this nothing there is everything, which has all names and all stages. These moments of today, which provide the zest of a tranquil life, are beyond the approach of words. It is a movement of existence which lies at peace in this ‘everlasting’ ‘is’ness’. It is a wordless walk, it needs no name but all other names depend on it. It is only an uncommon stay of experience which is only a presence. What name can I propose for it? Nothing. Therefore, let it remain what it is.