The blind chase

This is what I see in the world around me. All our lives we are expected to chase the pinnacle for the best possible view, turning our backs to beauty that surrounds us all the while.

Most people keep going. Hallucinated with what's coming next, they never question this race. They just keep going. Sometimes gasping for oxygen. Sometimes carrying more weight on their shoulders than they would have been comfortable with. Feeling gratitude for not being at the lowest point of the rock. Seeking joy from the sight of co-travellers well beneath them. Cursing themselves for not being as fast as the ones above. Occasionally they look behind and realize that world is after all a wonderful place. Assuming that the sunrise is so breathtaking because this view is from a height.

In this crowd of climbers, I am a lost being. When did I ever get here? I don't aspire to reach the top. I never built the endurance to continue this obligatory race or pursue a meaningless fancy. But I cannot stop as that would be a burden to those who I am tied to. And I can't let go of everything to gaze forever at the creative genius around me; that would be a suicide.

Surely life as I know it will continue to feel like a blind chase. Unless I transcend to newer dimensions and transform my current perspective fundamentally. Well, that's another fancy!

Empty Silence

I am at peace. Much more than I have ever been. I am at ease with the world, and with myself. I am able to accept negative things most of the times without having the urge to judge. Disturbances in my world do not affect me as strongly as they used to. I am also trying to simplify life by turning minimalistic (read quality and minimal purchases). But this is turning me immensely lazy, not just physically. I have started to ignore things and forget matters. 

Is this the silence I had been looking for? This dead, empty silence? Is it even close to what I want?

One step closer...

I've always found it boring to meditate. I find it very difficult to be completely aware of the present moment too. But the practice that has finally resonated with me is observing myself and others as a third person. It's become really fun to do, as I've begun to get the hang of it.

When I'm deep in anger, I consciously let myself yell. When I am pained, I let my tears flow. When I'm happy, I let myself rejoice the way I wish. I also enjoy feeling the state of the people around me by imagining their conditioning and biases. But behind the conscious indulgence in all these feelings is a watchful, observant self. I try to keep that self alive, though majority of the time it stays merged with my ego. I basically wish to enhance my perception of the world through the process. And get a step or two closer to the supreme truth.

Have you ever tried to observe yourself? 

Noise

My life feels so scattered right now. Perhaps because my mind is not in order. And I am tired of my mind. There is a constant noise going on inside. An endless chatter. Uncontrolled. Unformatted. It means something in bits and pieces, but is pretty meaningless overall.

I wonder how would silence feel like. Pure silence. Serenity. Effortlessness. I wanna rise up to that silence. And so I must go through the noise.

Pursuit of the ultimate

My love for books… It’s not like the desire of a sculptor to create beauty, the fascination of a poet for romance or the devotion of a dancer to rhythm. It is simply like the passion of imperfection for perfection.

I love new ideas. A single page of meaningfully written text can have an explosive effect on me. It can take me over completely, offering so many perspectives that mercilessly intrude into the continuous dialogue inside me - a philosophical dialogue so abstract and subconscious that, with time, is becoming more difficult to share even with my conscious self. I wonder if anyone who reads much more than me can possess any less curiosity and awe. I do not know if I represent a section of low intellect beings that get overwhelmed with the most menial thoughts or if the ability to savor the minor ripples on my surface is just a gift of proof to myself of my depth. I am not sure if it matters either way. Books, after all, represent to me not a proud collection, but an infinity of ideas that have the potential to form a whole new universe - one that can hold my consciousness for eternity. Books represent to me a key to overcome the horror of stagnation; a path to ultimate truth.

Recently, though, it has dawned upon me that this obsession of mine seems purely pretentious to some. And obsession is so often judged in black or white. Perhaps, the world isn’t worthy of sharing one’s true self. Or does it matter at all?

A Hindu by origin. A secular by choice.

If you do not believe in the historical existence of Shri Rama, are you not a Hindu?
If you refuse to observe fasts in the month of Ramadan, are you not a true Muslim?
If you love your short bangs, are you defying the ideals of Vaahe Guru?

I don't agree on these questions with a majority of believers.

I seek to separate true knowledge from blind faith.
I seek to figure out the differences and similarities among religions.
I seek to discover the essence of all the beliefs.

My posts to follow contain my views on religions. And I understand that it's a sensitive domain to venture into. Please pardon me if I hurt any of you. I only wish to stimulate a logical thinking on this forbidden topic.