The funny game of breaking the walls which don't even exist

It’s not a wall, this body, separating the world outside that our illusionary ego, the sense of “I” makes us believe, exclusively separating the self from the other. There are no separating walls. They appear so on account of the conditioned mind and the limited perceptions thanks to our sense organs which interpret the fragmented parts perceivable to them in the forms of feelings, appearances and shapes at certain frequencies. The latter are nothing but concentrations of energies at particular frequencies. Otherwise, it is the same cosmic energy, vibrating, evolving, transforming in endless chains. It’s nothing but an ever existing evolution, with balancing counterpoints all along the way. The apparent creation and destruction, the dualities, are nothing but the balancing acts as cosmic design unfolds. You can compare it to a pole-wielding rope-walker. The movement is onwards, but at each step the pole sways between the dualities to manage the balance and movement ahead.

So let’s start with the cemented identities of the separation of the self from the big scheme out there. At least accept that there are windows in the wall. Accept that it’s not an unbreakable stone wall around your flesh and bones. Open the windows and let the light flood in. By taking windows as walls, we just keep on piling a crust of illusions around our apparently exclusive self. Then it becomes a fortress, created solidly by the mind. A dark, sooty psychological crust around the self. It’s a narrow, confined world of insecurities, jealousy, self-centeredness, hate and complexes. The things which should hardly matter become life-defining parameters. Under the tar of illusions, our real self, our real potential, our gateway to success, plus peace, lies dormant in the dark.

The crust becomes too hard. But its brittleness increases with its thickness with the passage of time, as our age and experience tell us later. It is bound to crack. And when it does, we feel the pain. Our assumptions of happiness and success turn out to be flimsy and childish. It seems we just ran after a mirage. No wonder we die in pain and agony.

So guys start hammering down the crust. Practice opening the windows in the illusionary wall. Let the let pour in. It’s there, everywhere, the real you, with your potential of greatness and peace. As much as you pursue dreams in a competing world, return home to your real self in the evening for rest and repose. That is your root, the real origin. Nourish it. Leaves, branches and trunk are important. But these are the manifestations of the potential of your roots which lie there in the soil of unity and totality of one universal energy going on and on in countless transformations, following the same laws, diferent transformations at each stage. So nourish your roots to the real self. The branches will be sturdy, the leaves healthy and shiny.

Go and embrace the tree near you. It is the same energy, utilizing the five primal matters like yours, manifesting its tree form at a slightly different frequency that yours.

A sad pink-bum

I politely refused him guava from my small tree because last time he nearly dislodged it. This chap is too hefty, as broad-backed as a man. So he smirks from the neem tree and doesn't give a good pause to click him. Sadly looking at the raw guavas. Last time he just picked them raw and then threw these like grenades. The way he is looking at them, I'm sure he will return. By the way his bum is soooooo sooooo pink! This colour is the pick of the day.

Peace: The redundant wish

Worldwide peace and harmony doesn't need authority, power centers and hegemony to sustain. But the latter--authority, power centers and hegemony--surely need strife, wars, violence and bloodbath to sustain it. Peace has never been the focal point of geo-strategists. It it were, most of the issues we are fighting about become redundant by default.

Don't write with hate in your heart

If good writers write with a bit more sense of equanimity, they do more justice to the art. Falling off the fine line of balance turns them cynical, and it affects their art.

The only problem with "The Ministry of Utmost Happiness" is that it's written with too much "hate" for the "religious hatred". It somehow taints the soul of the artist. Hate, even for a good cause, easily creeps up to turn to cynicism. The latter sours the spirit, which in turn smiles a degree lesser than in its unadulterated version. But it's human to have our prejudices, even if they come at the cost of losing our balance a bit. Otherwise it's poignant and moving beyond words.

Learn to smile big from your small corner

It's the smallest plant in my garden. But it beats most of others in bigness of flowers. In numbers and beauty also. It appears so happy to be just itself. No wonder, in a world obsessed with larger and bigger things, it attracts you from its little corner with big bouquet of beauty. It's so tiny and fragile. But has a huge blooming spirit. No matter where you are, in whatever circumstances, at whatever ladder in the scheme of things, you can bloom at your own level to the fullest. And when you are true to your own being, your own self, you attract bigger eyes by default.