Expression without art
Keeps you tied to the emotion.
With art, expression acquires the power
To release you.
It educates, cultivates, sublimates.
The art is in the manner of expression.
The sadhana of the artist
Is not merely to express feelings
But to transform them
Into an experience of beauty.
When something breaks
Destiny takes over its purpose.
What becomes of the part,
Separated from the whole-
Depends on the actions
Of many forces.
Life takes over.
Emotions drive it.
Sustenance becomes essential
For survival.
Separated from the whole,
The part searches for its own identity.
It awaits true love…
Searches for something
And someone to belong to.
Unconscious of the truth
That no one thing can complete it-
As it belongs with All.
Life is a journey
To a destination-
A voyage from no-thing
To no-thing.
Our something-ness is maya
That should be lived…endured…
But not preserved or pursued.
Intoxicated with life
We live in a state of forgetfulness
Of who we essentially are;
Adamant to ‘be’ someone whole…
Someone who will be
Loved, remembered…continued.
The feeling of purposelessness
Haunts the part.
Separated from the whole
It may be re-imagined, re-purposed…cultivated.
But it can never become
What it cannot be.
So much activity, very little action.
So much knowledge, very little understanding.
So many words, very little meaning.
So many functions, very little purpose.
So many pleasures, but very little satisfaction.
Man can only provide
Imagination and variety,
Alternatives, substitutes and evocations
For what evades him in essence.
Originality is good.
The true is good.
The honest is good.
To surrender the material
At the altar of the spiritual
Is good
Self-awareness is good.
To love is good.
Correct knowledge is good.
To overcome weakness is good.
Courage is good.
To adapt to change
But to remain unchanged by it
Is good.
To relate with care is good.
To sustain the good is good.
To be human
Is not an easy condition.
We stand in a liminal space
Between heaven and hell
We feel love; we feel hatred
And everything else in between.
We know that what we know
Is defined by our ignorance.
Do we determine the course of our lives
Or are we determined by it?
We seek expansion through our relationships
But feel constrained by their society.
We feel want
But don’t know what we want.
We feverishly seek knowledge
Because we wish to know who we are.
But our ignorance is fundamental
More than we understand.
We wish to do good
As a way to negate our evil.
We want happiness
But search for it in things designed to yield sorrow.
We set out to understand the eternal
But can’t deal with the ephemeral.
We hedge our losses
Through acquisition and gain.
Seeking permanence
In the impermanent.
We desire the meaningful
But produce the wasteful.
Always in search
Always in pursuit
We long for our
Own homecoming.
We enter every day
Not knowing what awaits us
We operate on the faith
That we will be conveyed.
Faith is deep and silent
It’s secure and real
Unshaken and undeterred
By the havoc wreaked by emotion.
Faith alone is knowledge
Because of it
I can wait, watch and listen
And see past my own misconceptions.
Faith is a promise
That all that you need
Will be provided to you
And all that needs you, will come to you.
Faith is acceptance-
An understanding
That all our experiences
Are the intent of a larger design.
Faith is the ground
On which realization
Will eventually stand, victorious-
Having defeated all delusions.
Every expectation for happiness
Is met with sorrow.
The ultimate outcome
Of all pursuits
Is disappointment.
Perhaps happiness is not
Something to be expected;
Or something to be pursued…
Its place isn’t at a distance
Somewhere in the future…
It’s a way of being
In this moment
A way of seeing…
A way of meeting and greeting life
With nothing more than your presence.
Happiness is a choice.
It’s when you choose
To put gratitude before demand
Appreciation before dismay
And love before hope.
How does one be
Without striving to be ‘a better something’?
I’m coming to see
That ‘better’ is an illusion.
But if I don’t pursue the better
What do I have to my merit?
And if I don’t have any merit
What do I call my own?
And without having something
To call my own, what belongs to me?
To whom do I belong?
Where do I belong?
To no one? To all?
To nowhere? To everywhere?
How does one feel complete
Without ownership?
How does one feel fulfilled
Without achievement or acquisition?
How does one know love
Without attachment?
How does one know fullness
When one feels emptiness?
How?
You understand
The words I speak
Their intent and meaning
Have been long established.
But language is a thing of the past
The present, the new, the unfamiliar
Have no means (other than silence)
By which they can be shared.
They stand outside
What can be spoken of
Our ideas and imagination of the new
End up being frustratingly old.
Language,
The means by which
We come to learn
What we must know
Confines knowledge
Limiting it to the verbal.
We fashion it- tweaking,
Re-arranging and refracting its meaning
In the hope
That we will free it
Through creative expression
And come to discover the new.
In other words,
We intuitively know
That all that we know
Is but our inheritance of meaning.
It’s at a distance
That your salvation awaits
Never near…
But never out of reach
Always urging you
To walk that extra mile.
Is what we seek, there-
At the end of a distance covered?
Or is it that in covering a distance
We leave behind all
That was standing in the way
Of what we were seeking?
Wit. Wisdom. Wonder... 