Words

Words are by far the most potent weapon civilization has endowed the human race with. Like all weapons words can be the instrument of creation and destruction. Creation seems to be out of context, but bear with me while I establish this truth. A spoken word can bring into existence something, which is intangible. Hate. Is the word a definition of the emotion or is it a label. The compartmentalization of this panoply of thought, emotion, restricts our spiritual and emotional development. Sure, words inspire, move us to grief, awe, sympathy and even love. But like all other illusory aspects of the universe, words conceal more than they reveal. The ultimate truth is found within our minds. Not thoughts brought about by ruminations, but rather by the lack of thought. And this is the truth. Keats knew what he was talking about with his much plagiarized and oft quoted;

“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,
That is all you know on Earth, and all you need to know”

However, like all the paths to higher stations, there is no shortcut. Through words, we have to reach the Word. I do not refer to the Christian term; this is applicable throughout all religions of the world. Once we understand the beauty of a language, only then can we appreciate the tremendous silence it’s lack creates in ourselves.
Writers know this, and use it well. Sometimes a pause, a break conveys to the audience far more than a detailed description. People who write for the sake of writing are well on the way to achieving a higher level of realization.

Sunday Afternoon

Sunday afternoon, and the rain falls down on the city. As far as the eye can see, the landscape is muted by a shimmering veil. The sun for all its glory in the heavens, cannot compete with the might of storm clouds on Earth, and hence hides from our sight. The skies, prematurely twilit, span the firmament, and the restless seas darken in sympathy.
This is not a day for sorrow, though. Nor is it a joyous day. It’s as if the weight of the clouds above strip the world of all illusion, a symbolic cleansing of Maya. Low levels of visibility open our eyes to greater truths. An emotion, which has not been captured in any Lexicon, springs up. An emotion where profound joy co-exists with immense sorrow.
When the eyes, of their own volition fill up with tears as if the rain were coursing new paths within us. Where joy, without the exuberance inherent in it’s most prevalent form, fills the soul with cleansing light.
I cannot worry about death on a day like this. It’s as if our subconscious is awakened to a higher state where base issues of mortality, so real to us; are of absolutely no consequence.I’m not asking for immortality, I just want infinity.

Readings

I just tried to do a tealeaf reading from the dregs of my cup in office. ‘Twas a most unfortunate thing to do, as I had forgotten how popular teabags were. So the future was well, not exactly dreadful, it was nothing. I’m going to try to read the stars now. No luck there, the damn sun keeps getting in the way. So I deviate from the occult and head to the scientifically accepted precepts of quantum functions and mathematical models. I plot the lines of my life and… well, discovered exactly what is meant by infinity. The teacup is suddenly looking a lot more attractive. And the sun is a star too…

But no, focus is what is required. And with that clarity that called the focus into being, comes a revelation we are not equipped to handle. The truth in its nonhuman entirety is hidden from us, but the glimpse of the ultimate reality that is afforded to us in those lucid, contemplative moments, frightens the thoughtful into voyages of fear and hopelessness. I think it’s time I switched to coffee…

Morrigan

Morrigan, or the Morrigu as she is known is a Celtic deity closely associated with war... and death. she appears a lot in early Irish mythology, where her capricious nature is evident in her treatment of that brave, yet highly unimaginative hero Cuchulain. My tribute to her......

Ebon wings across the skies, tunics bloodied and torn,

The stones at the ford lament the dead

Noble hearts lost, nations shall mourn

(Unnecessarily); as brave hearts are led

Through the gates that bar mortal woes.

A crow wings back to yet another gate

That is, and isn’t, Faerie’s own doors.

Embrace the Sun

There's nothing more beautiful than the sun shining bright and warm after months of gloom, dampened weather and spirits. An interesting parallel can be drawn from this.

Earlier, I would wish for the rain to come in full force and would revel in the first cloudburst of the season. I would be glad for the rain, turning into a happier person. The sunshine and heat that was such a bother, was forgotten in the waking dream of the monsoon. Cool winds bringing a hint of moisture in them. White clouds scudding across the skies, fleeing from the might of the awesome storm clouds that loomed on the horizons. The rains would begin, thunder pealing overhead. Incandescent bolts of lightning blinding in the gray murk.

This was the time when the creatures of faerie that resided in my imagination had a world to live in. The rain brought with it magic that was elemental and mystical. Unicorns could be glimpsed through the mists of morning. The skies, gray black and veiled with rain, would become the home of Dragons and the Phoenix. And at night goblins and werewolves kept vigil.

I would sit and watch the rain for hours, alone with my thoughts. The murmur of water on the pane consistent as a mantra. Tears would course down my cheeks in sympathy with the rain. "Tears, idle tears, I know not from whence they arise..." I never understood that line earlier. As I got older that changed. Well it was magical, and I was very young. My mind had the curiosity and the imagination gifted to the young. Life didn't cease. The moment was everything. Tomorrow was as far away as another 10 years. My mind was free to dream and was never weighed down by mortality.

Now, where I seek joy, I find melancholy. Where I yearned for the rain and dark, I now pray for the Sun. The warmth and the brightness feed my body, and cast a numbing pall of light over my thoughts. Blanketed by the warmth (often heat), and surrounded by light, the graves seem distant and far ahead. However, none of this has helped. Corporeal chains shackle the mind and force it towards the realization of an existence without apparent meaning, an end to awareness.

The choice is up to me... Live a life all else would construe as escapism of the worst kind, or seek the sun and the song of life, and follow the ignorant delusions of the many

What you will

Oceans heave, lured by the waning orb
That casts evanescent threads on the fleece
Of darkling clouds, gathered above

The woven winds rein the skies,
Weeps sweet tears from heaven’s eyes
Eyes that span dew decked hills

She walks the mist, a vision in white
The stars shine ‘pon our trysts at night

‘Tis here we live when I’m alive
Here I remain, though I must die

Perceptions

Ever wonder how it is that we are able to comprehend our insignificance in the order of the universe? Our lives, our cultures, our wars, human endeavours, all pale into insignificance when one perceives the absolute enormity, in the four dimensions that we comprehend; of the universe. What does it care of a small planet, when our lives are of no consequence to the progress of time. And on a scale beyond us, a quantum clock ticks, the universe moves in a cycle, ever receding, cooling, a dying universe. A death of such a vast entity is worthy of enormous sorrow. Space is a cold forlorn place. Stars and Galaxies are threaded rather loosely through the weft of nothingness. What happens when stars die, when galaxies burn out, when the last spark in this universe is extinguished? Is this a death of any meaning? Think on it. Was all this just a whim of a primordial power, a one creator, or is it just quantum physics acting out its course? Let me riddle you with clichés aplenty. The universe was in existence 14 billion years ago. What existed before? Nothing? The answers are locked in our minds. And they will stay locked because the truth is not something we are equipped to deal with. If the universe were just an experiment or a random coincidental event, does that preclude the possibility of our realm being the only thing ever, or does our sciences and laws apply only to our universe? That there are laws that apply to realms so far beyond us. That our order of thought is limited. If the universe as we know it were just a component of a grander scheme of things, and we were to know that, have we found god? What happens when a mortal passes away? W ell if the spiritualists speak true and the essence of our souls survive, then is that the ultimate knowledge? What good will harboured souls be in a dying universe. If we were to exist beyond death, we will live beyond the stars, where absolutely nothing will have meaning to us. Horizons, receding ever into the infinite. Are they a function of perspective, dimensions or do they parallel singularities. A point where the space-time matrix does not exist as we know it, where all possible quantum laws break down. All the singularities exist at the same time. A black hole near on some far distant galaxy would therefore be the black hole anywhere else. There is no time, space or light in a black hole. Are all these points in the universe the same? Would this fold the fabric of time and space in ways, which are imperceptible to us? Horizons stretch to what apparently is a thin single dimension. This would be a function of perception much as the laws of science perceive a black hole. This concept would help us especially when dealing with vast dimensions of the universe. Conversely it would appear that a singularity would remain unreachable forever to us. The fold of space-time would forever keep it at an infinite distance from us. This is where linear thought would fail, and a literal quantum leap of faith must be taken.