Posted in Mysticism

That Which is Not

We all try to make something of this world. We learn and then we unlearn. Then we learn some more. But what is it that we actually know? What is it that we do not know? Do these circles entwine somewhere? Is there a place which is the grey area which covers both, the known and the unknown?

More importantly, can the unachievable be achieved? Is the undoable doable? That which we see, is it all? Or is there more to all this?

There are moments, mere moments, and nothing but, but they existed even if they did fleetingly.

A twirl of a skirt, and the step taken in despair towards the holy, and a moment when you are you and you are everything and everyone, the earth and the sun, the trees with their infinite leaves, and the numerous bodies, small and big that pulsate with life on this orbiting world…one swirl and you are one with each one of these things that make the universe and the world, within and without. And in all of this one moment you feel the earth move in its capacity and somewhere in space, you see the earth rotate on its axis as your science teacher had told you it did. One moment of eternity and you have lived and been alive in everything.

The eternity then being in a moment is then no more linear. It is after much reflection thought that it is spherical in nature when just like anything alive it has a circle of existence. It ends where it begins and it begins where it ends. For that reason it is also felt that anyone who is aware and who additionally can manipulate this circle of time can and may intervene in its course and perhaps go where they will and whenever they please. The concept of déjà vu may then fall into place. It is then not a dream but the feeling that you were already here and that perhaps you may have lived that very moment before in life. For then the existence of the belief that yes, you were here before and you did do all this before as it was a spherical tide that took you from here and brought you back here again.

The fact that memory entails that you were here before curtails that in some remote manner, either in the physical manner or the metaphysical, means that some element within you understands and acknowledges that this was already lived. Hence, what we know we know through the age of the soul and not the age of the mould. For what is mould  but basic elements or in other words, clay and water. But if that is the case and the mould keeps coming together and this world is destroyed and recreated over and over again, then what of the soul?

Does the soul have an age? Or is it ageless like the breather of the breath that breathed into the mould? What is the soul? Where does it come from and where to does it go? Is it, like the Lord, was, is and will be? Then, what is it that the soul knows that the mould is unawares? Or, what is it that the mould is meant to learn from the soul in the brief period that it is here? Perhaps, that was the purpose. The purpose of life was to learn not from without but from within.

The self has many voices, like the self has many selves.  Each self has a voice and each voice has a tone. The voices speak in tongues and more. At times in dreams they make manifest a message, and other times you (if you have not been conditioned to shut them out) can hear them from within the depths of the soul, and then there are moments when you hear it from without the mould. There are conversations too at times. Conversations of the self with the self. Although at times it is hard to make out who is who and what is what but these can be quite interesting just as these can be quite maddening too.

Over time, the voices may be divided into those that come from quite deep within and those that are superficial. Only you hear them and only you know that they can speak, and only you know that they all speak the truth. Many a times these are ignored and not bothered with, but at other times they appear deafening and you can do nothing but obey.

The eye sees and it sees deeply into the abysses and into the heavens. The heavens are explored when the eyes are closed but there are times, when glimpses, mere glimpses are also visible. It is believed that the elemental particles cannot be seen with the naked eye. So say those who restrict their knowledge to what comes from a theoretical script in a musty book somewhere. But then there are those that can see without the artificial lense of a metallic eye. What we see…ahh that which we see! Between the spaces, between here and there, there is no empty space. The air is not just that, air. It is more, much more.  The globules of energy surround us, enveloping us. They are more evident in the open under the sun in the sun rays. Miniscule, vibrant, on the move. Hours may be spent glazed deep into these.

Then there are sparks. These golden sparks. Over time, one may learn to relate these to the very holy. The flicker in and out of existence like tiny gold flakes that are so light that the still air can carry them in their hearts.

We are not alone for we never were.  Space is not spatial. It never was. There is more to the space around us as there was more to the river of time. What is not there is what we always see and what is there we are unaware of. The veil, and there are many veils, hides most. What they let know, is but the grain of sand that rests on the top of the mound of sand that is above a short hill which is a part of a mountain which is rooted into the earth deep under the sea, which is a part of the molten earth which floats on the core of the world. But what we see is that one grain of sand on the top closest to the eye.

The reality we know was never a reality. What we thought was but a random dream long forgotten was the actual reality. When we thought we were living, we were but sleeping, and when we thought we were sleeping we were but alive. Those that breathe are not the living. Then those that we thought were not the living as they did not breathe, were but alive.

Much was said and then it was unsaid. All was written but mostly it was hidden. Signs are signs, they remain for those who seek the truth. The truth remains solely for those who see. The sight is retained for those who hear. The gift of hearing is only for those who yearn for the spark. The yearning is for those who know that they are incomplete and that this all is but a fading lie.


If all I can see is my own shadow, I'm in my own light.

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