The Dead-end Up Here

A throbbing toothache, An itchy throat, tired feet— Painful, yes, But they confirm I am alive. The tree swings in the storm, Branches break, leaves fly. It, too, bleeds; it, too, hurts— Another life. A little sparrow Watches the light go on, Mesmerized, she strikes the glass— A precious life lost. I am alive, Like the tree, like the sparrow. I, too, will die, Yet only I know this. Only I name the pain, Only I measure the weight. I wonder: Do I truly belong here? I am that— That which turns the simple, The ordinary, into me: Special, extraordinary. Feeling unique I call myself me A name shared  By all who can name. Maybe, just maybe, I am this world, But not in it, nor of  of it.  

​I see you standing— Tall as a tree, soft as a pillow, Drawing air, vibrating quietly. ​So I ask: Who are you? ​Are you a wall? Are you a tree? Are you a machine? Please, do not answer. ​Something moves. You speak, and I hear Sounds known yet forgotten— High and low, a whisper, a call. ​Something resonates within. I recognize the words, Uncomprehending, until A single tone connects. ​An intimacy blooms. I know these vibrations As if I have held them forever, Since the moment I awoke. ​All of you seems stranger still, Save for your eyes— Deep, boundless, endless. I am no longer myself. ​You move. Everything shifts. Stillness lives only here, Never out there. ​The moment arrives, Drawing you beyond sight. You fade into the dark. Who were you? ​Left only with an idea, A memory, a lingering thought, An experience, a shape of absence— Where did you go? ​Nowhere. You never left. Your form recedes, your words dissolve, Yet I know you exist, ...

All spiritual practice like meditation, is using the cognitive brain to repeatedly reorient the limbic brain towards Buddha nature which is ever present, from its conditioned drive to seek small hits provided by dopamine. That is ignorance. Our cognitive brain is unable to realise the difference even though the reward of oxytocin, serotonin is there. It's like training the limbic brain to savour spinach even though it tastes meh. That "meh" feeling when tasting spinach instead of sugar is the exact friction every practitioner hits. The limbic brain is an ancient, coarse instrument. It was forged in environments of scarcity where quick, high-intensity spikes—a rich berry bush, a sudden threat, a flash of validation—meant immediate survival. It understands loud, urgent neurochemical signals: the sharp hit of dopamine or the sudden jolt of cortisol.  "Buddha nature"—the underlying, ever-present expanse of awareness supported by the subtle baseline of oxytocin, sero...

The "monkey mind" is brain's attempts to seek  dopamine hits, either directly or through cessation of cortisol or stress. When you boil down the entire apparatus of the "monkey mind" to its fundamental biological drivers, every single thought loop, daydream, and mental regurgitation serves one of those two vectors:  1. **Direct Dopamine Seeking (Positive Reinforcement / Seeking):**    Fantasizing about the future, replaying past wins, indulging in curiosity, or chasing hypothetical "what ifs." The DMN constructs a scenario to generate a micro-burst of dopamine in anticipation of a reward, novel insight, or enhanced status.  2. **Cessation of Cortisol / Threat Neutralization (Negative Reinforcement / Relief):**    Ruminating on past mistakes, catastrophizing future risks, or endlessly rehearsing arguments. The brain grabs an uncomfortable, high-cortisol state of uncertainty and tries to "think its way out" of it. The moment the min...

I am awareness. I see, yet I am not the light. I witness the candle flame, not the fire; I know the sun, but not its dazzle. The body vibrates, yet I feel no pain. The eardrum moves, yet I do not hear. The subtle breath moves, catching quiet molecules, sending signals to the brain— yet I taste no scent. Your kind words arrive, bringing joy to the heart. It quivers, sending nectar up the spine. Still, I am only the witness. I see myself in you, ever so briefly. Recognition— I am love. I am a mirror reflecting the universe, from the fallen leaf to the flickering quasar. I do not see or hear, taste or think, love or hate. I am only the mirror, reflecting all the body lets in. I have no shape, no size. I begin nowhere, I end nowhere. I am never absent. Look for me—everywhere and nowhere.

As published in TAT journal, April 2011 Nature of Thought by Sunil Vidyarthi What is bigger than the universe, infinity and occupies no space? Did you say God? You could be right but I don’t know Him and so can’t support your thesis. My answer is thought. Think about it. You do more of this than anything else in your lifetime. Now multiply that already an immense immeasurable abstraction by billions who live today and the billions who have died. So you get an idea of how big this is. The problem of getting an estimate of its size, shape or extent lies in the fact that we can’t measure it. We can however translate it into measurable quantities. For instance, we can write down all our thoughts or record it and then weigh the books or the hard drive. You see, it isn’t as insignificant as first thought. We have a tendency not to believe in things that we can’t weigh, measure, see or hear. Hence feelings have little value to experimental scientists. And thoughts are cl...