Drop it

Keep deleting and dropping whatever you have learnt and seen. The more you lose memory of things, the. more clarity remains in life. Memory is a continuous process which is one hundred percent dead. A life that is led on dead memories which might never happen again in life is a dead life. Attachments is a necessity for the present. Attachment with the past, even the previous second is a terrible disaster.

Lips

Life is always the other way around. And when it travels, it takes nothing but a huge pile of thoughts with it. There is nothing significant in a dead thought, but it is, sometimes, the greatest driving force that fuels it for decades.

A brain with sharp can keep dissecting into to the deepest abyss of thought and can stare at it. The abyss will only stare back. The end of thought is it’s very beginning. The origin. Every question of why has no meaning when it comes to the sacred structure of mind.

It was a bright sunny day with gentle summer breeze. There was no big movement of clouds except for very still ones around the afternoon sun. They were give few shadows complementing the ones with trees. She was sitting on the walls of a corridor facing a stretch of bikes and scooters. Her legs were waving in a pattern that was musical and repetitive. It didn’t look like a nervous flutter, yet it was something that conveyed a steady stream of happiness and contentment inside. The immediate world surrounding her has dissolved and it was she and no one else. Even the trees, shadows and the clouds have disappeared.

The moment one sees a girl, it’s always brings in some sort of emotions, happiness mixed with fear and anxiety. The memory is working in full throttle getting every detail of her dress, her eyes, hair with the unique pleat, cheeks, ears and finally the lips. The problem with the mind is it cannot hold an energy of emotions and it looks around for a secret friend where it can be unloaded. Too much energy should be spent creatively or it will self-destroy.

Apart from the biological demands of age, there must be something that is not touched by love, passion or lust. It must be more personal, like a possession. Unfortunately, That is where the huge problem of greed comes in. And one knows, that trickster called greed and mine.

Got to sleep. Continue later.

Creation and destruction

Our mind and thought has a way of living and surviving for itself. Over thousands of years it has evolved to put itself inside a cage and call it security. Yet it craves for that which is unknown or more simply the creation. It has portrayed that as the most pure, infinitely loved and complete peace etc., But at the same time it has cunningly shelved the very fact that it is also destruction. The mind knows that it is wild, untamed and not a respectable thing. It has no morality, ethics and does not fall under man made laws. It’s not that goody-goody. It can never be. Hence it becomes a dangerous phenomena and something that has to be avoided, and eventually conflict is born out of it.

The two spectrums of it, creation and destruction is a non-dual fact and thought should freeze to receive it. The slightest movement of thought will only bring a chain of reactions and judgements that will prevent it from seeing the what is and escaping into the choices it has created. Indulging in drugs and in temples is all the same escape from the truth. Choice less awareness of life might only be the way to look at it, as it’s beauty must be breathtaking, intelligence so supreme and destruction so ruthless.

The mind has built a cage, knowing that it’s dangerous to meet the unknown and it is comfortable in it. The naming of it as Creation and creator and the destruction as evil and the opposite of creation is a trick of the mind in its quest for eternity.

Dream chess

It was a very vivid dream. There was this amazing clarity of the chess board which was green and cream in coloured checks. The pieces where 3 dimensional. One couldn’t remember the first move or the beginning of the game. It was a game in progress. The moves that one was making with the white coloured pieces were brilliant. And the black pieces moved equally good.

The white queen’s knight was dancing on the board ruthlessly. One could have never imagined those moves in the wakeful state. It moved all over the board stunning the black pieces. There was life in the white knight and sometimes one felt it’s was him inside the knight.

What an amazing fool the mind is!! It’s powers in wakeful state is so limited, covered by layers of emotions and desires. Somehow the other face of the mind is open in the sleep state. It played in white pieces against itself creating black pieces. It was constantly calculating and working hard on the disasters it made in the games that day. It wanted order and win. It will not rest until it has worked and found out a way for its inferior talent in chess. Interestingly, It couldn’t recall the beginning and the end of the game in dream. There was no result as to who won. How can it be? Both the pieces were a design of mind and it can not encounter defeat.

Is sleep, a chance for the mind to rejuvenate and enjoy roaming in unknown territories? Does it even stay inside the brain? Is there something else beyond the brain-mind matter, that is working?

Honest thought

Thought as such is always comparing one frame to another. Judging and making the decisions based on the immediate needs. Thought in all its strength is the greatest blockade to human happiness. It cultivates enormous amounts of walls and exits, creating a labyrinth inside itself and lies in the comfort of it. It’s designs are probably based on self, which is cleverly swept under the carpet giving a moral and honest look.

Being dishonest is born out of searching for honesty. The constant struggle to balance, like a landing flight, creates conflict and confusion.

A man was walking in the corridor and there came a moment when he started to turn around and walk back. After taking few quick steps, looking at the floor constantly, he stopped for a fraction, turned around and started walking the other direction. It was painful to watch him being tossed by the everlasting movement of thought.

Love and bravery

Love is born out of bravery and the bravest are the ones who had truly loved life and its inner meaning. The bliss of birth, life and death is inseparable like a twining young plant stuck to a dirty post. They very act of differentiating the plant and the post is the cunningness of the coward called mind / thought. Mind will always be a coward, one cannot change that. Nature gives a rare opportunity to tame the mind radically and get liberated from it. One human in a billion sees and grasps the opportunity, which requires tremendous courage that is not born out of ever calculative mind but out of the sacred thing called love.

Love is born out of bravery. Bravery is born out of love. Death is the only witness to it.

Water

The mercury has touched 40 Celsius. Summer has just begun and one could feel the heat across the cheeks. The plants were recently blessed with a newly installed drip irrigation which kept the soil wet. The flowers were blooming voraciously, mostly pink and red with few white flowers too. When looking closer at the flower, a line of tiny ants were going up and down busily gathering food. Just above them a flying insect, few millimetres in size was seen hovering making circular, random movements that could not be grasped by e human eye apparatus.

There are parts of the world, especially in Africa where water is a rare commodity. The greed and corruption of men had made it more complicated where one has to entirely depend on few mediators to quench their thirst. The water is never clean and it’s supplied in a old, dirty containers. A few miles down the road there is a shop that sells the purest water bottle, well designed and packed straight from the “developed” nations.

The region is extremely rich in gold, uranium and copper which are the most richest materials in the world and yet the very natives are the poorest in the world.

The United Nations and the other Organisations come there to take pictures of poverty, human suffering and promote it to the rich people around the world begging (sic) for money, in the name of donations and fund rising. But the water, will never reach the poor natives, until the last atom of rich minerals are looted from that place.

Creation never makes a mistake. But it is completely bored with itself.

The girl soldier

In violence, poverty is the worst form. It is a cage prepared by society, perfectly designed, decorated and made as a castle. Illusion is born out of comfort and acceptance and thought slavishly agrees to it. It’s a never ending track, like the rails, running parallel with life.

She was the first born of eight children. The last one was a girl child too. Her parents worked for the government from 9 to 5. Sundays were holidays, and few bank holidays gave them a break from the monotonous life. As a child she used to walk miles to get to school in time. The routine of waking up, getting ready for school was occasionally hindered by the job of getting the other siblings ready too. Unfortunately the first child of a big family inevitably becomes the proxy parent at a very young age. It’s a terrible crime, but that’s how it was when the human reproduction was at its peak, for no reason at all.

The government monthly salary of her parents would evaporate halfway through the month and the rest of the days would be tight and dry. Debt is a habit, but for the family it became a necessity. As a teen, with the ego and self respect, she was hesitant to do the borrowing. But that was job thrust upon her and she had to do it for survival; for the family. It would start from the rice shop and continued endlessly through the dusty street. As a soldier, she knew the importance of discipline, duty and drill. The second born boy would take her job, once he becomes a teen.

Poverty strengthens one. It offers determination and grit. It teaches to be a master in survival. But ethics, morality, generosity, selflessness and humility are qualities that have nothing to do with it. It can neither be offered, taught nor manufactured.