“Does Love exist,” she asked…

“Does love exist,” she asked

 

“Expectations unmet

And feelings are held on to closely

On a short leash…

And what about love?

Love stays in my head

Not my heart

It lives on as a concept

It seldom, if ever

Enters my aching heart

 

Does it exist? Anywhere?

And should it exist?

My relationships are but a transaction

Held together precariously

By a concept called ‘duty’.

 

What makes ‘duty’ more dear than love?

Perhaps because I sees that everybody else thinks so…

Love is this fluid, uncontrollable ache

Love knows no partiality

It reveals all

And that’s the scary part

That in love

I will be seen in my nakedness

My skin will lie before you

In all its blemishes

My aching heart will

with innate gravity and force

Drop me to unimaginable lows

I will long for you and your deliverance

With no certainty ever

That I shall be received by the open arms of your own longing

 

Love can just about assure me of two mercies:

Hope and Faith.

But it is duty that’s more prudent,

more pragmatic

It helps me float over the ache

 

And it is Duty that pays the bills

For all those distractions

That fill up my space and time

And love continues to live on

In my head

As a concept.

And because it does

there are expectations unmet

And feelings restrained.”

Understanding Ignorance


Ignorance has a wide circle of friends

Ignorance has tremendous influence

It draws me to people

And people to me

Our common pretense, our common act

We come together in what we lack

Or so we say always believing

It’s through another’s eyes I may understand my seeing

There’s no place among friends for him who knows

It’s your ignorance, your inadequacy that opens up doors

It’s Understanding  though that has afforded me this insight

That Ignorance need not be wrong, it can be very right

Especially when you need some friends

Understand that you’re better of with Ignorance.

 

Manifesto

Our economic system is flawed.

Our political system is flawed.

Our education system is flawed.

Our society is flawed.

 

Because they thrive on falsehood

They need lies for profit, for leverage

And in and through their design

All work is sacrilegious and a curse.

Poverty is immanent in wealth

We only graduate in degrees of ignorance

And man is bound to man in a wretched dependency.

 

The root of all this is the individual

Fallen from Grace

He seeks his Self

He tries to know who he is

By being who he’s not (a sum of different parts).

 

Filled with deluded notions of grandeur

He procures. He makes. He sells.

And he is celebrated for the profit he makes.

In this blinding business of generating profit

He is left with sight, but loses his power to perceive.

 

With such an impairment

He can find worldly sustenance only through profit

He woos gain

And fears loss

He is wide in mirth

But shrivelled in sorrow

He wants only part of what life has to offer

He has no faith in the whole.

 

And the Truth cannot be anything but whole

The Truth Is.

It need not be created

The Truth cannot be measured by numbers or degrees

It is all-pervading and all-embracing.

 

Truth does not grow

It does not favour

the rich over the poor

the strong over the weak

the haves over the have-nots.

 

Infallible in its system

It awaits our homecoming

If only man could find solace

in the knowledge that it’s okay to not know…

And simply accept his being

Forego the contrivances of “who” or “what”.

And celebrate am-ness…

 

Then Truth would speak

And Truth would need

That which only Truth can give

Truth would ask

And Truth would answer

And Truth would accept

What Truth had made.

 

 

 

Presence

I picked up the glass of water

A ring of residue remained

I wiped the surface

The table remained

I took away the table

The room remained

I took away the room

Its memory remained

I took away memory

Nothing remained.

 

Nothing had been there all along.

In Reflection

Cleanse me of all affectations

Move away the dark clouds

So that I may see a clear blue sky

And know

Through such a seeing

That I now stand face-to-face

with a truer reflection of me.

 

Help me deny meaning

To the sound of my thoughts

And the words of my speech

So that I may understand

That these sounds belong not to me

But are the lyrical oracle

Of the whispering wind.

 

Reveal to me that my laughter

Is but the human expression

Of a gurgling, falling stream

That embraces every stubborn rock

With good humor, born from inherent faith

A knowing that no rock can stop

The powerful current of overflowing joy.

 

When I see before me

A sprightly bed of beaming yellow flowers

Do not fail to remind me

That although my eyes see

The yellow-ness of the flowers

It is really the flowers seeing

Their beautiful brightness through me.

 

And then

Why must I fear my desires

Or suffer them as a perversion

When in truth

They are the fire

Whose flames rapidly rise

In eternal longing of the highest virtue.

 

Lead me to realize

That the essence of my conflicts

Lies in my having made true

The non-existent, the false

The personal, the ‘me’

And that I have lived

In severance and in denial of the true.

 

I have fashioned myself

From the gift of your senses

And called them ‘mine’

But I exist not

Apart from you-

O Fire, Earth, Wind, Sea and Sky

I exist as you and for you.

 

The Mind

The mind is movement

perceived by the virtue of stillness

It is an influent

whose ultimate source

and ultimate end

is a mystery.

Watch then, you

with the eyes of your soul

its spectre of affections:

of fear and sorrow

of longing and ecstasy.

And even though

in its search for truth

it makes things true

Distance its truth

as one would a lie

And marvel at its virtuosity.

Appreciate it

As you would appreciate a Monet

not just for an enchanting picture painted

but also for seeking to understand

the illuminating and glorious

light of the day.

 

 

 

Right now

Time, our common inheritance, is given to us bit by bit, in instalments. It is apprehended as the gap between two experiences or two memories. We experience time in our experience of having moved forward, or in having left behind an experience or in having grown. It is in the growth of our consciousness that we experience time. And although it is our common gift, we differ in the way we experience time…in what we choose to do with it. For some, time is the dull, aching persistence of memory. For others, it’s marked by the chase of a desire for an imagined future. Our being is often torn between our past and our worries or hopes for the future.

Our experience of time is dependent upon the quality, quantity and pre-occupations of our thoughts. The more the thoughts and the more they revolve around your self and your plans, the more you will stand defeated. The rich rewards time yields can never be claimed by one who is under the captivity of his/her own mind. They can only be reaped by those who are free of their past and have faith in a yet unseen future. This faith allows them to live without fear-in the here and the now.

We swim through life in a sea of eternity. The past, present and future are our mental constructs; they have no basis in reality. We simply move from the present to the present, bit-by-bit. We grow, or  at least we ought to, in our ability to grasp the wealth of a single moment. Right now is all I am bequeathed. Right now is all that I have.

My grand ideas keep me from appreciating the little. I equate ‘more’ with ‘more’. I’m unable to see that in the dimension of time, a breadth of accomplishment lies in the depth of a moment. Is it possible that in this moment of a single breath, I accomplish all that I must accomplish. In wanting something more than what this moment is offering me, am I not missing something? What is a year after all, if not an exponential day? And what is a day, if not an exponential hour? And what is an hour, if not an exponential minute?

The question then should be : How do I raise the power of my present? The only way to raise the power of the present is to LIVE IN IT. Living in the present requires that we be free of worry and entrenched in faith. The faithless move from one enchantment to the next, foolishly bypassing the miracles of their own lives. Unable to see the value in their existence as it is, they long for another. In their longing, plans and journeys are made, things are acquired and positions sought. They wait for that moment when they will taste the times they long for, looking down in irritation at the present that seems so indifferent and ordinary. They often talk about ‘killing’ time, rather than ‘living’ it. To have faith, is to awaken to the power of both- REASON and INTUITION. A person of faith knows that he has all that he needs to ride heroically on this moment. It’s not wiled away in longing, but befriended through an exchange of capabilities. The moments are lived as a celebration; they’re not wasted in planning a celebration. The wise know that there is nothing to be gained in life, that life-in this moment- is the gain itself.

 

Right now-

I realized

Cannot be met

With charming words

 

It will meet you only in silence.

 

Right now-

Wants and desires

An immediate and intense union

A disappearance of two

 

And the appearance of the one.

 

Right now-

Refuses to conform

To the conventional, the old

Where the world ‘exists’ in a long-dead relationship

Between subject and predicate.

 

Right now-

I am worthless in what I know and possess

But valuable (I sense)

In my sheer presence

 

Beggared of all accumulated wealth.

 

Right now-

I am humbled

By this lack of basic ability

To share with you

 

The gift of the new.

 

Right now-

I realize

I shall have to make do

With greeting cards and amusing knick-knacks

 

To convey fossilized feelings to you.

 

Right now-

I appreciate the distance between us

Hoping that wherever you are

You are alone, immersed in your own presence

 

Receiving this gift that I lack the ability to give.

 

 

 

 

 

Poem

What is a poem

if not a reflection

of the mystery of my being…

 

How can I claim authorship

or even meaningful intent

When my own existence

is as momentary

as a drawing in still waters.

Living on a prayer

I breathe who breathes

I am one, I am all

In the span of one breath

I rise and I fall.

 

There’s nothing I am

There’s nothing I’m not

I come into being

From the womb of your thought.

 

In your heart I exist

As longing, as pain

For every loss of illusion

I stand as your gain.

 

When clouded by darkness

Having lost sight of trust and love

Keep your feet on the ground

And your gaze above.