Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Friday, May 20, 2005
Nature ensures that every desire carries within itself its own poison sting. Greater the desire, deadlier the sting.
The desire for Enlightenment is also a desire. But just look at the magnitude, the sheer audacity, of this particular desire: notionally, nothing less than eternal bliss will do.
No wonder these fellows are referred to as “miserable” seekers.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Of insanity, wanting to know reasons,
Knocking on a door. It opens,
I’ve been knocking from the inside!
Do you think I know what I’m doing?
That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?
As much as a pen knows what it’s writing,
Or the ball can guess where it’s going next.
Beyond our ideas of
Wrongdoing and rightdoing
There lies a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase 'each other'
doesn’t make any sense.
Praise to the emptiness that blanks out existence.
This place made from our love for that emptiness!
Yet somehow comes emptiness,
this existence goes.
Praise to that happening, over and over!
For years I pulled my own existence out of emptiness.
Then one swoop, one swing of the arm,
that work is over.
Free of who I was, free of presence, free of
dangerous fear, hope,
free of mountainous wanting.
The here-and-now mountain is a tiny piece of a
Piece of straw
blown off into emptiness.
When sublime music flows out from it, the Flute says: I created the music. And you shake your head and explain compassionately: No flautist, no music.
The breath of consciousness, the reed of body. Sublime potential.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
And in the cool winter night scented with the heady fragrance of green grass, this is what he heard Swamiji say:
Unhappiness is Desires divided by Desires Fulfilled.
Monday, May 16, 2005
There is the waking state. That’s you awake during the day. Working, loving, hating, happy, sad.
And there is the dream state. Mountains and springs and forests arising instantaneously. Old men and infants, births and deaths. Everything and everyone seeming so real in time and space that if I were to enter your dream and say, hey, wake up, this is unreal, you would fight me - in the dream - saying, “No, dammit, this is real!”
And then, of course, there is deep sleep. Sleep so deep that you - as a name and form, as John, Mary, Ramesh or whatever - don’t exist. In fact, the entire manifestation doesn’t exist.
The fourth state is what the Indian sages call turiya - the awakened state when you see the living dream for what it is. You know what they say: you wake up from the personal dream into this living dream; and it is only when you wake up from the living dream that finally Reality is witnessed…in the waking state.
Suppose you get up in the morning after deep sleep. Which means you did not dream, did not know “you” existed. You did not even know if manifestation existed. No dreams, no “me”, no parents, no religion, no wife, no child, no girl friend, no boss. Nothing.Yet you get up in the morning and say, “I slept well.”
Now, think about it: who (or if you like, what) was awake when you were in deep sleep?
And when the computer is turned off I am the Reality of dreamless-sleep called Samadhi until the computer is turned on again. And then I wake up to be Mr. Anderson, again.
- posted by Gene Polotas at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/rameshbalsekar
Saturday, May 14, 2005
In the midst of the chanting, a thought suddenly pops up: what if somebody was to walk away with my rucksack at a traffic signal?
Now this isn’t as simple as it sounds. You know what they say: Trust in God but tie your camel.
So does that mean I must thread my arm round the strap, even as I chant, to prevent the rucksack from being stolen? What about my trust in Existence?
This leads to the thought that I can only go with one of two possibilities:
If my trust in Existence or God is complete it really won’t matter if the rucksack is stolen or not; both will be accepted as the What Is at the moment. However, if my trust is semi-baked, I had better cling tight to my belonging.
Wisdom dictates that if you are shaky on trust, shore up on pragmatism.
Psst: What do you think I did?
As it arises, the Wave says, “I Am, I Am, I AM”.
Then the Wave melts back into the ocean, its identity merged back into the ocean where it came from in the first place.
Then, once again, the wind of Cause affects the ocean, making another wave to arise.
And the nascent Wave says, “I Am, I Am, I Am”. There goes the whole game all over again.
Existence has ordained this:
The ‘Me’ of the Wave shall always return to the ‘I’ of the Ocean.
… the Buddha had no background to seeking, no guiding hand, no Guru, no one at all to tell him what to do, where to go to seek the answers he sought. So he wandered like a mendicant, making his own path. The prevailing trend among fellow seekers laid great store by denial, on austerities. On denying comforts and courting pain. Hardening the soul as it were. So the Buddha put himself through the greatest austerities, courted extreme pain.
Then, one day something happened that changed his entire life.
He was in a forest, exhausted by his austerities. Broken in his body, weary in his spirit. He had done everything he had been told to do but he was nowhere near his goal. Then, a couple of musicians walked into that part of the forest. They settled down a distance away, unaware of the Buddha’s presence. The older musician said to his younger companion, "If you haven’t understood one thing, you will get nowhere. Leave the strings loose and there’s no music. Tighten them too much and the strings will break. All music is born out of balance."
For a Buddha, that was enough.
Friday, May 13, 2005
Stand up, take a stand
Sign up, join now
Coin a slogan, wave a flag
Fight, set right all wrongs
Oh the world’s doing so horribly
You’re too easy
Speak your mind, make a choice
This isn’t okay, that is fine
Pink and blue aren’t the same
Take your pick, leave a print
On the sands of time
You’re too easy
Stand out, leave a mark
Make a name, blaze a trail
Stir up, work up froth
Don’t you want to bequeath
How will you get anywhere
If you’re too easy
He sighed and said:
I concede, I accept
I am bother-less, I am choiceless
I have been terribly spoilt
By the ease of being easy
What do I tell you
How do I begin to explain
Life’s been teaching me
A whole new game
The middle path is wisdom, not compromise
Flexibility is strength, not frailty
Acceptance takes more grit than kneejerk action
And, believe it or not
Resilience comes naturally
To those who truly understand
So I let life live me
And as I weather those storms
I never let myself forget
The bamboo that bows
Stands taller much after
The rigid oak is down
I am still, not stagnant
I am content, not complacent
I have finally experienced
The exquisite poise
(Thank you, Chemistry)
Of dynamic equilibrium
I have no flags to flaunt
No forts to defend
No isms to lie down for
No desire at all
To leave behind my bust
For pigeons or posterity
Thank God, he said,
I am finally easy.
An intrinsic part of his programming creates the delusion that he is an individual entity and the doer of his actions.
It so happens that some of the programmed instruments are programmed to seek power, some others to seek glory and yet others to seek pleasure. Some of the programmed instruments are programmed to seek their source code.