The Dead-end Up Here

As a four year old, I attended a satsang with my grand uncle who was practicing pratyahara by abandoning all usual domestic life and wandered small villages of mithila giving words of wisdom to whomever would listen. Unfortunately, 7 pm was about the end of the day for me and I pretty much fell asleep in the wonderful ambiance his presence along with candles, incense and flowers had created. All I remember is his first word which was samsara and a memory of deep peace. I asked older folks later what he meant and they told me the world. It has taken me sixty years to really understand the vastness of the word and what world he was talking about. I have spent pretty much rest of my life to try and find simplicity in teachings which mostly confuse me even now. So when Mooji says look, I find mostly noise confounding most of my senses. So I close my eyes and the loudest noise from photons disappear. What remains when I sit for a while is a vast ocean of quiet and peace with frequent d...

There comes a point on the path when you know that you are not living the truth. You know the truth, a truth, some truth or have a sense of the truth. But you also know that you are not living it. The very attempt of trying to live the truth will take you to the realm of untrue for what we call living is here in   and around a world of lies, deceptions and illusions. Living here can never be true. Only not living here can be true. It may seem that great sages, teachers, mahatmas and enlightened masters live the truth. But if you can see this or sense this, it is already untrue. They are the shining example of the truth. They are but pointers and evidence of the truth. You may and should follow them but that will still not be living the truth. It may be commendable, wonderful and desirable but not the truth. The great paradox as put by Richard Rose is that you can only be the truth and no more. Mooji asks who is it that is going to live the truth? So why know t...

In a boat, in the middle of the sea Without a compass, without a key. Night is dark, clouds are thick Afraid of something, don’t know which. Many clues tell me life is fake, Just hope not, for my sanity’s sake. She said she loved me Until he got a BMer and ‘twas a new game To the babe I was a hero, true and strong Until he found true love, alas not for long. For dad, I could do no wrong Until picked up a guitar and did some bhang. I worked so hard, aced all the tests Valedictorian,  top of the class. Couldn’t find a job To even cover my ass. Towed the company party line Had it tattoed on my behind. Until one day my mentor was fired New party line I could not find. Looked in the mirror  What was bitter sweet. That I couldn’t recognize self If found in the street. What is this place, Whose are the faces I think I know, clueless I am not. (c) Copyright Protected by Author, 2010