From the past few days…
As the mind break opens one again,
As the flood begins,
One asks how long will this one last?
Might it last forever?
Well nothing last forever.
But for now,
Let it rain,
Let it rain, at last.
Oh what damage is done,
When a child is yet young,
And an idea of “chosen-ness” is engrained.
Do they know what they do?
Do they have but a clue?
Building this ego anew.
It is easy to start,
But hard to control,
The feeling of superiority.
How can we come to a time full of peace,
When they instill upon others,
A destiny of mediocrity.
For I am better than you said the boy,
And you deserve less than I!
For I am a Brahmin,
And you a Dalit,
Chosen by God for this seat!
And the Jew to the Arab,
No better than a scarab,
Who sits upon his land.
Move over said the Jew!
For your time is through!
For I am Chosen for this seat!
And in the old days,
There was but a Christian,
With a pistol in his hand.
He said to the Indian,
Manifestly, I am sending them,
Away, Chosen is my seat!
Now we have America,
Who believes she takes better care,
of all in the world’s domain.
All those with other beliefs,
Customs, cultures, and families,
Move away! This is our seat!
There shall come a time,
Where one shall stand up,
And tell them a thing or two.
They will say but don’t you know,
We are all the same, but you,
Who the hell are you!
An endless ocean under the eyelids.
Under the eyelids lays an endless ocean,
Wading, daily, the son tries to find his way home.
In the middle swirls a whirlpool,
And yet all whirlpools must lead to some open space.
It could be said that the path to home is like a whirlpool,
But something is holding us back like a rope around the waist.
Cut the rope and you can go home too.
Letting go and going down the tube,
That is the basis of Faith.
Faith that this is the way,
Even if it is scary.
We can’t cut the rope ourselves.
It is more like asking for the rope to be let go,
Like a mother dropping her child off at a school in a far away land,
With tears in her eyes as she leaves.
And in a moment of realization,
The thought comes,
I am not the son,
I was always the Mother.
A philosoph does not always philosophize,
He seeks happiness just like any other,
The difference is this comes from contentment of understanding,
Always only lasting for a short time,
Until absolute certainty is achieved.
And home is finally reached.
Sometimes I look at memories and don’t feel that they are mine. Just extremely vivid images from the first-perspective. It’s like something wants me to believe they are “mine”, but something else just sees them for what they are; experiences.
Spiritual progress is the only thing we get to “take with us” when we leave this particular life.
Become what you really are.
Land unsullied by a fence,
Is beautiful land indeed.
“Well how will we keep our animals?”, you say?
How will I provide for my need?
An animal that wants to escape,
Is probably an animal that’s afraid.
It may sense their is danger,
Run away from the manger,
The orders will not be obeyed.
A cow that is daily milked,
and daily talked to,
will not run away from its “home.”
Hence, tear down this fence!
So many people are only looking for simple things in life like appreciation; such an easy thing to give, perhaps not always sincerely, but when given in earnest, can slowly enliven even the deadest souls.
I try to appreciate everything that is given to me and especially made for me even if it is a simple meal. This appreciation, the gratitude is like a healthy drug that most people miss who only cook for the same people everyday.
My new favorite thing to say when I meet someone and then we have to say goodbye:
“It is a small possibility that we do not meet again.”
Have a wonderful day!
Above picture taken at “Our Lady of Angels” church, Pondicherry, India.
And a special thanks to a friend who is now helping me with updating the look and style of the blog! Thanks brother 🙂