Ever had the feeling as if you are a spectator, watching the kaleidoscope of experiences that we call life ......
Its as if ....the same reel is running slowly .....perpetrating a senseless deja-vu.......
I have noticed ....only a few realize this.....the others never stop and reflect.....sometimes the carnal thirst to win at every cost is so high that the repetitive staleness of life is given a miss-in-baulk.....
Maybe it is the putrid staleness ....that makes one run in the first place.....the attention is so much on the outcome that life seems like a couple of milestones in the beginning.....
only in the beginning................eventually .........there is a part of the human consciousness which somehow detaches itself from the rigmarole of stupidity and watches with a profound detachment the happenings..........
..beautifully silent.....ever aware ...neither self-pitying nor attempting to dramatize the trivial.....this beautiful detachment dawns unaware ......as the sun's beautiful "rays" in the morning.....in sanskrit it's called "aruna" the charioteer of the sun-god......the one who heralds the beginning of dawn.....she looks on from an Olympian height the convolutions of destinies paths as it grinds each man beneath its unyielding heel.....
....maybe this is what the ancient seers meant by "soul".....the "spirit" within......never sleeping, always blissfully aware.....never subject to the machinations of the pilfering , ever-blabbering mind.....
She doesn't have the mind's irritating habit of cross-talk, attempting to justify its every action....."she is".....always.....existing peacefully........
Her purity so unalloyed that even the rush of "ecstatic happiness" seems like a disturbance.....it makes even euphoria look like a gregarious impostor....
Maybe this is what the ancient meant by the "peace that passeth all understanding".......which is not dependent on any object for its arousal.....
a happiness so pure.......her very existence is healing and purifying.......there is no stench of greed, imperfection and longing to be completed...
its already complete.....what more can she add to herself....any addition will just make her imperfect....both pain and pleasure mar her rich beauty...maybe this is why the meaning of "vishnu" is also the "one for whom pleasure and pain are alike"......the underlying note on which the mind dares to enact its play......
when the play finishes......its beautiful again.......the purity is regained......it was always there....ever "shiva" ....ever auspiciousness.....
the nectarine silence........mother of all thoughts and words......how can language describe her......
For language has an apex.........its pinnacle is to express the sublimest of thoughts.....but not silence........maybe that why the ancients said that "she" could not be described by words............words are limited by thought and who can voice something which is not cloaked by thought.....
Maybe that's why the eternal thirst for objects which are beautiful.............beauty which stuns the onlooker into silence.......true beauty does not excite......it soothes......its gentle caress erases out the wrinkles of thoughts.........
the silence that a paramour feels on embracing her secret beloved........is a reflection of the eternal goddess of silence.....
When the embrace is complete....all longing...all desire are stunned into silence for a fleeting moment.....again providing for a split second....the glimpse of reality.......what sublime bliss......
beauty does reflect god's face.....at least for an instant........
The wise recognize the original longing behind the sensual craving.....they understand their true need.....they see the goddess smiling behind the veils....
the search begins for the elusive mistress of silence.......ever she observes her child......tempting and teasing him.......she knows he will find her in the end......
she laughs as he tries to understand her....trying to cloak her with symbols and words........how she laughs.......she has to teach him.....guide him temptingly......he is innocent like a new born baby......trying to grasp his own shadow....and angry when the sun takes the shadow away........
eventually he tries to win her through action.....again she foils him ........how can the inactive mistress of silence be gained through selfish, gross ever-volatile action.......
But the action provides a balm......he feels like he is actively searching for her.....applying himself through the worldly grind,....he desperately hopes she would notice his misery.......but the goddess needs surrender from her child.....at heart a woman.......she knows how to comfort and relive the burden....what can she do......if he does not want to be comforted......
As he sits tired and angry at the world.......he surrenders .......unknowingly.......without reservation.......not attempting to find or question her.....like a child.......unreservedly....unconditionally.......a love that only a child and his mother can understand.........
a bond that does not require constant rationalization nor any tag...........nor justification nor secrecy......
Maybe that's why the "buddha" became the "sakta" as the "shakti" enlightened him.....born a warrior .....he tried everything.....before finally falling asleep in her lap.....
It was not the "bodhi tree" which was responsible for his bliss........his heart was pure ....and at that instant the eternal silence took over.......
The mother of all names and forms..........as we retrace.....we see her true nature.......elusively hidden..........captivatingly beautiful......visible only to the wise....ever cheerful.....beauty personified.....
A beauty so pure that even describing it renders it impure.....
the only way to eulogize her is to close the eyes....and merge within....watch her as she plays with her own myriad forms.....what more is required......
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