All posts filed under: Mysticism

Lovers

His year began with a cold shower last valentines morning, of course it was February, of course it was cold. For many years he dismissed the love day by saying valentines’s mother was a pagan and did not believe in Christ herself, rather was in love with a tree outside her home. So he would love a tree that stood outside their home. She would rebel even thinking about going outside and say I detest this urban theatre. Every one is a clone of the other. Look a likes inside outside. He left mother for school where he found children crushing and tearing a chit that was given to them to call their parents. Later the painter came and looked at the plant pots and said no. They cannot be done. Twenty five years had passed. Then one day somebody complained about the school running in the park of a society. The notice came and school was shut. On the closing day school organised a reunion inviting all the ex parents where they served them …

LAST FLIGHT OF AN OWL

He kept looking towards the sky while floating in the water kept for cows. Big round button yellow eyes like ever watching you do the doing. His death seemed such that at one time I felt he chose it. But would a predator or anyone can choose his own death? May be. But When Maharaj arrived, he first closed his eyes. May be he needed someone to close his eyes before it could be plucked out. May be he earned this burial. To only put a stop to this cycle. May his body rests and the spirit awakens. Aum Shanti  

Mother is like light in life’s darkness

In the paralyzing times of helplessness, while doing nothing; close your eyes. Think of water, a river. And if possible become it. Shiva was eyes wide open in all directions. The destructive eye opened inwards. We went to pataloka to touch him in dim light and later ate spice. Darkness is the birth place of all creations. A child becomes in the dark. The lights glows the most in the dark. Mangla, the cow is pregnant. One big similarity, between a woman and a cow is that both take nine months before their child comes out in the wild. One of many reasons why the living civilisation considers cow as mother.

Life is only breath. Every other thing a distraction.

Tonight is dedicated to red Hibiscus flowers. They ended inside the fire place while praying for the solar chord. It was also mauni amavasya, i.e a moonless night  observed in silence. Women had fasted in the exchange for words. They did speak from mouths today but eyes were seen talking. There was nothing sattvic about the day even though I tried to make it. It all ended without a moral. Without a story as if either it wasn’t needed or we weren’t important. The walk was long. It didn’t feel long but sun had almost set and we both had reached to the aghora rhymes. The once desired magic when attained, when passed over, turns to mundane. Life is only breath. Every other thing a distraction.

The story of Venus and the Running girls

Today was shukra. Shukravar. A day of Venus. Shiva ate shukra, and so he became Shiva himself. That only meant that there is no shukra or Venus but the light of shiva through his shukranu/sperms/rays. From far I saw the same crane limping around Kali. Squirrels and other birds went about eating and devastating the plants with much more aggression then previous days. Japam has been similar but effect will only be seen days after. Gayatri is as pure as mangla’s milk but time is now to dig in and change the course to attain a smile. Get on. – Shukra/Friday and Shani/Satuday passed by. Last night winds are lashed anything that they crossed. Felling many a bucket full of leaves. As soon as the morning arrived a girl started running down from a mountain. She held onto the finger of Maharaj, who was coming closer and closer to her. But as she neared him, she started feeling dull, bereft of light. When she opened her eyes, she had no pupil in them. Maharaj’s eye …

Swaha / to the sun

Slowly I have started smelling like fire. There is nothing more to feel one with the divine than this. Ash is all over my head, my clothes, my legs are bereft of a sole. Pouring Ice water every morning on head now seems a ritual. And the heat from the fire has become a family. Is it because of these squirrels that i have started listening to? Or that bird in the morning quietness who comes sits by my bed in the darkness of the dawn? Something will change. It seems to be initiating something and directing somewhere i cannot know just now. Hear hear they say. Hear till your eyes see the light.