How Can I Not?

Time has passed by

Like a gust of wind

A bird gets ready to fly

Oh so hard it is

To say goodbye

 

Oh attachments

To home and not-home

 

Is it still home?

Where the heart still longs

For something

Timeless

Long gone

Truth?

 

It might be

That this precious Truth

Is right here

Next to me

How painful it is

That I can’t see?

 

Some people

Call it Love

But I can’t feel it

Perhaps a little sprout

Deeply planted

In layers and layers

Of illusive existence

 

How can I accept an illusory role

Prescribed by a system

Engineered to keep me

A passive victim

That blindly and silently

Follows

What others are expecting

‘Me’

To do?

 

What is ‘Me’?

I am my mother

My father

Brothers and sisters

Ancestors

Creators of my kinship

I am more than my blood

I am the tree that I used to love

I am the river that I used to swim

I am the clouds that I used to dream

I am earth mother desperately crying for help

I am heavenly father who gave me a soul and guides me with Love

 

How can I accept

Seeing ‘me’

All my loved ones

Trapped in illusion

Delusion

Karmic sea of Suffering?

 

How can I not

Attempt to find a way out?

 

How can I not?

Build a boat

Search and wander in the sea

To finally find a ferryman

Who agrees

To take me to the other shore

 

Oh that sweet home

Where the heart longs no more

Where home is here

There

Everywhere

Nowhere

At the same time

 

If I do reach my destination

You will see

That you are ‘me’

Simply Free

 

You will realize

That indeed

You have agency

To build your own boat

Search and wander

Meet your ferryman

And see ‘me’

On the other shore

 

True Home this is

Where the heart longs no more.

 

Like a Thread of Spider Web

In meditation

A deep realization

Cuts through the web of delusion

Enveloping Life.

 

“I shall live a long life,”

People think.

People hope.

People desire ardently.

 

Like spiders,

People weave webs

Of power and domination

To keep the weak captive

In structures of exploitation.

 

What a finely weaved cobweb!

The most ignorant bugs

Don’t even notice it.

They get enticed and entangled at once

And become food for these spiders.

Yet no matter how strong these webs are

These shall fall and disintegrate someday.

 

A strong gust of Wind comes

And carries everything away

All disappearing without a trace.

After certain periods of time

This cycle repeats itself.

 

Nothing escapes from the Wind,

And today I realized how fortunate I am

To be alive and part

Of this finely weaved web of Life.

 

Like a fine thread,

Circular shaped,

Empty in its core,

My life

Sways with the Wind,

This thread can break anytime

Yet such is the Beauty of life.

What a precious gift that is Life.

 

After all this time cycling,

I realize my little life

Is just this single thread

Swaying with the Wind

Connected to the master web of Life

Today I surrender myself to thy Beauty.

 

 

 

Like a Raindrop Falling Into the Sea

Waterdrop by MrMEEAN http://mrmeean.deviantart.com/
Waterdrop by MrMEEAN http://mrmeean.deviantart.com/

A raindrop falls into the sea

Sent from the Clouds above.

The impact sends ripples all around,

Circular ripples,

Concentrically spreading into the vastness of the sea.

 

The raindrop soon

Becomes attached to the sea,

Turning itself into seawater.

 

This rain drop was once sweet and pure

But it became salty.

Salty with the tears fallen into the sea of suffering.

So salty this water droplet became that it lost all of its past memories.

So cycling in the sea,

It remained.

 

Purposeless wandering,

Vangrantly flowing,

The little droplet was dragged,

Recklessly pushed around by currents,
Never stopping,

Dipping down into the deep sea,

Surfacing up,

And flowing in different directions.

So cycling in the sea

It remained.

 

Truth is that all things are impermanent

Thus came the day in which the once pure water droplet

Surfaced up.

The droplet was carried up on the back of a blind sea turtle.

Once the turtle rose up into the surface

The water droplet splashed into the air

And saw Everything,

The Beauty of Creation,

The vastness of the Sea of suffering,

The never-ending Horizon

Touching the Sky

With its Heavenly white clouds

And the Golden Sun.

Its warm rays embraced the water droplet,

Breaking its chains that bonded it to the Sea.

The once pure and sweet rain droplet was finally Awakened.

The little droplet remembered all of its past

And it became Free water vapor that ascended back into the welcoming Sky.

Where Are You O Little Bird?

Where is it?

The treasure I search.

The light.

The bird that sings with a sweet voice.

 

I searched for you everywhere,

Here and there,

Up in the mountains,

Down in the valleys,

Into dark forests,

And along mythical rivers.

Where are you o little bird?

 

A long time ago we met

But I forgot and neglected you.

I got busy with worldly concerns.

‘Grown up’ things like

Bodily comfort,

Sensory pleasures,

Material wealth,

And craving for respect and power.

How foolish I am!

 

I forgot about you

So I started blindly searching

For something,

Anything that could refill my broken jug of heart.

For it was slowly leaking,

Emptying itself of Life.

 

I searched for you everywhere,

Here and there,

Up in the mountains,

Down in the valleys,

Into dark forests,

And along mythical rivers.

Where are you o little bird?

 

Disappointed,

I rested my hand into my pocket,

And there I found you.

A sick and neglected

Blue patched golden canary.

I gently held you in my hand,

Fed you,

Cleaned you,

Took care of you,

And gave you all my Love.

 

Soon you became filled with Life

As my Heart became filled with Love.

You started flapping your wings,

Flying around things.

I tried to catch you,

Put you in a little cage.

But I realized that it was impossible to catch your free spirit.

What a worthless task I got myself into!

I let you free o bird!

You come visit me wherever you want.

 

Then you perched,

And started singing your Heart out.

Your sweet voice echoed through the world.

First five people came as audience,

Then ten,

Soon a multitude of people gathered around you.

You sang sweet songs of Love

In different styles and languages.

Bringing people together

To celebrate the inner Divine

That resides within!

 

Allow me to accompany you o little bird!

Let me taste thy Freedom.

Let’s roam the world,

Land wherever our Hearts guide us to,

And sing sweet songs of Love!

Let me liberate myself from worldly chains,

And live free just like You!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The River Cuts Through All The (Bull)Shit

The river cuts through All

The shit floating in its water surface.

Human shit,

Pig shit,

Uncategorized shit,

But mostly bullshit

All discharged without treatment,

Unnoticed,

By untamed minds.

 

Silently and with a gentle smile,

The river takes it All.

Not complaining,

Not holding grudges,

Not breaking down.

It continues its dance of Infinite Joy.

 

One might ask,

“How can one take so much shit without returning some shit?”

Confused folks start hypothesizing:

A) The river is stupid (so they try to take advantage of the river).

B) The river is weak (so they try to manipulate and dam the river).

C) The river has hidden intentions (so they stay cautious and avoid the river).

Nonetheless even after much brainstorming,

They still can’t arrive at a satisfactory answer.

“What a weird river!” folks say.

Perhaps it’s because the river has realized its divine duty in life.

Its purpose being to serve All.

Hence even though the river is surrounded by all types of shit,

It will not become like it.

Only the surrounding shit disintegrates and becomes part of the deep river.

 

Oh! The deep river flows with such a mystical divine Beauty.

Even after being dumped with so much shit and pollution…

What a Beauty!

Artists have tried to paint

The contrasting harmony of the orange sun setting in the dark blue Ganga waters,

The heavy colored ghats1 filled with people performing pujas2.

Poets have tried to recount

The galloping water charging in like Alexander’s mighty cavalry,

The sunlight reflected on the water like an eternal waltz between Mr. Sun and Lady Ganga.

Composers have tried to capture

The undulating sound of waves caressing the ghat,

That crispy tune of fisherman boats gliding through the water.

Dancers have to tried to express

The inner flow of the river in their body movements,

The melting of their solid bodies into rhythmic flowing water.

Singers have tried to convey in their songs

The mood of a meditative boat journey down the river,

The explosive energy of pushing a fishing boat up the river,

And the overflowing Love that pilgrims and worshippers have for this River.

 

Devoted pilgrims have travelled to the shrines up in the Himalayas to worship the Mother Ganga,

Who descended upon the Earth through Shiva’s hair.

Dividing itself into seven streams,

Three to the east,

Three to the west,

And one following sage Bhagiratha,

Who dedicated his life to worship and austerities,

The one who was destined to liberate the souls of his ancestors,

The sixty thousand sons of King Sagara.

All of them torched to ashes by sage Kapila’s yogic fire

After wrongly accusing him of stealing King Sagara’s horse and attacking him.

After a long journey following sage Bhagiratha,

The Ganga finally flowed through their leap of ashes,

Cleansing and freeing their lost souls.

 

After listening to the story of Ganga’s descent to Earth,

An upper caste man claims with pride,

“Ganga-jal (water) is never dirty.”

Yet right in front of his face

A big piece of shit floats by the water.

“It’s Ok,” he says.

But then he walks to the farther and ‘cleaner’ side of the ghat and takes a ‘holy’ dip into the water.

‘Purifying himself.’

 

One might ask,

From what?

Is it from the so called ‘unclean’ things?

How ‘clean’ are you?

Is it from those ‘unclean’, low caste things?

Those ‘unclean’, low caste, poor, jealous, darker-skinned, violent, uneducated things?

Drop it!

These things that you ignore and try to clean out from your conscience

Are your fellow brothers and sisters

Who work as your maidservants, rickshaw drivers and garbage collectors.

Who you have talked down on and thrown money at,

Who you have denied their right to exist as respected human beings.

Using manipulative schemes and distorted economic rationality,

A hidden system of oppression has been cast upon the common people,

That confines the poor into slums,

Denies their right to education,

Limits access to clean water and sanitation,

While pumping in messages that people from these slums are

Worthless, stupid and lazy.

Sadly, young people start to believe in these messages.

Slowly they embody these negative expectations.

Soon a cycle of mutual destruction starts,

Rape, murder, robbery, drug dealing.

Everything happens,

By the riverside.

 

The flowing river sees it All,

And cuts through all the (bull)shit.

Just like Goddess Durga equipped with the divine Sword,

Chopping through the armies of the King Buffalo Demon Mahisha.

For nine nights this bloody battle lasted,

Until she finally meets the charging Buffalo Demon,`

And she chops off his head.

While Mahisha was in mid transformation back to his human form,

Durga slays him with Shiva’s trident,

Earning her the title of Mahishasura Mardini,

Also known as The Slayer of Buffalo Demon Mahisha.

On the tenth day,

Durga stood victorious,

Restoring the cosmic order of the Universe.

This victorious battle is now celebrated during Durga puja,

Also called Navratri – The Festival of Nine Nights.

This is one of Hindus biggest and most important festivals.

This is a time for setting up pandals3 to be immersed into the Ganga

Accompanied by music, mantras, dance and social gatherings.

Perhaps a time for releasing the wild side within.

 

Hopefully one day,

Following Goddess Durga’s example,

People will delve within and slay their own inner bull demons,

Tame their minds,

And open their Lotus Hearts.

Only then can they realize the bit of Truth in the saying that

The Ganga is never dirty,

Not in the physical sense,

But Spiritually.

Remember this teaching my friend,

No shit can make you dirty if your Heart is pure.

 

1  Series of steps that lead into the river.

2  An act of worship.

3  Large temporary structures erected during Hindu acts of worship, in this case the worship of Durga’s victory over Mahisha.

 

 

Monsoon on Hooghly

The Hooghly River Tide runs high.

Its currents dance through

The Ghats

Where the common people bathe, wash, clean their clothes;

Where Brahmin priests perform sacred rituals and offerings;

Where dogs, pigs and crows scavenge for food amidst the trash.

 

The River is the Eternal witness.

It observes and observes.

It has seen human depravity at its peak.

Ships carrying people’s own brothers and sisters in chains to be sold as ‘commodities’.

The dumping of battered women’s bodies after monstrous rape crimes.

Bloody political and religious riots with brothers and sisters killing each other.

But the River has also seen the best within the human heart.

Unknown people jumping into the water to save a drowning child.

Ferrymen selflessly working day and night carrying people across the river.

Kind souls praying in Its margins for humanity to Awaken

And realize its current path towards self-destruction.

 

The River has seen it All.

Unaffected by anything,

Its currents dance

Up and down,

Left and Right.

Ever free.

Freely dancing.

Attached to nothing,

Only absorbed in the Eternal Flow of Infinite Joy and Beauty.

 

One night the River Tide was dancing,

Rocking the wooden fishermen cribs to sleep

At the tune of a Bhatiyali* folk song.

The River Tide loved the fishermen;

It brought them fish and sustenance.

The fishermen would reciprocate Its Love;

They cared for the River and worshipped it through songs.

That night,

When the fishermen feel asleep in their undulating cribs,

The River Tide decided to look up into the sky;

And saw a Beautiful Moon dancing amidst the clouds.

Being non-dual in nature, the River had both male and female characteristics

Yet the River fell prey to the Passions.

Gradually It started to lose its female energy and only retained its male characteristics.

It shifted to become the male Tidal energy.

Every night the Tide would stare at the Moon.

The Tide would imagine that the Moon’s reflection in its waters would be

The real Moon resting on his lap.

How He longed for that to happen.

The Moon noticed how the Tide stared at Her every night

With eyes full of desire and passion;

She decided to play with his thief like senses.

The lady Moon dressed herself in the finest white silk

And with a soft voice,

She sensually called the Tide to come closer to Her,

The excited and charmed Tide blindly followed her orders.

As the tide tried to reach closer,

The Moon would slowly take off her white silken dress.

Assaulted by desire,

The Tide bubbled in ecstasy.

He tried harder and harder to reach her yet she was too far away.

The same process repeated itself for several nights.

Until one night while leaking a smile of mockery,

The Moon completely vanished like a mirage.

In reality, the Moon had no interest for the Tide.

Her heart longed for the Sun

Yet destiny had them separated.

Rarely meeting.

Performing their God given duties at different times of the day.

 

The poor Tide seeing the Moon vanish before His eyes,

Finally faced the harsh reality of Desire and Passion.

They will soon and suddenly vanish one day;

Only leaving a trail of hopeless longing and suffering.

Sad, angry and depressed,

The Tide caused chaos everywhere it flowed through:

Sunken boats,

Drowned people,

Flooded banks.

The Tide selfishly flowed its way towards the Sea.

The Heavenly Cloud seeing all this suffering on Earth

Shed tears,

Tiny tear droplets gently embraced the heart broken Tide.

Calming It,

Healing It,

Restoring It.

The Cloud also asked its Thunder child to soar loud in the skies.

It summoned Its Wind friends from all directions.

All together they comforted the Tide saying,

You are not alone,

We see your suffering.

Awaken my friend! Awaken!

Realize Impermanence in your desires and passions!

Remember your long lost non-duality!

And strive for Liberation!

Then you shall lose your fear for the fast approaching Sea!

One day you will Ascend into the Clouds with us and become One with All!

Flow on, my friend! Flow on!

Monsoon has arrived!

 

*Bhatiyali – Traditional folk songs sung by boatmen in the rivers of Bengal while navigating the river. These songs worship Nature and have a mystic component in them.

Tale: The False Prince Has Died

The False Prince has died.

An Everest like mountain he tried to climb

But he fell and died.

Tall and mighty was this mountain of Five Elements.

Difficult was its climb.

Dear reader,

Open your Heart and listen to the story of how the False Prince has died.

 

Once upon a time,

There was a False Prince

Who decided to climb up a mystical mountain.

A famous mountain this was;

Praised by many but known by few.

Few travelers returned to tell how they climbed it

Or whether they actually climbed it or died along the way.

This mountain was named The Divine Mountain of the Five Elements.

 

This False Prince was tired of his lifestyle,

Surrounded by luxuries,

He longed for adventure and excitement.

Thus he decided to climb it.

Worried about his fragile body,

His relatives and subjects tried to stop him.

But how stubborn he was!

He wouldn’t listen!

So the False Prince bid farewell to them

And he started his climb up this mystical mountain.

He climbed and climbed,

Slowly he became tired,

Exhausted actually,

As he was about to give up his journey,

A compassionate monk appeared and taught him the Buddha Dharma.

Soon the False Prince started to realize his True Self.

Suddenly, the Mountain of Five Elements erupted like a volcano

Sending hot lava everywhere,

While bursting open an ice cold waterfall,

Throwing all Elements out of balance.

 

This mighty explosion threw the False Prince off the mountain,

Free falling,

As all the elements disintegrated,

The False Prince’s body also disintegrated.

The False Prince has died.

The False Prince has died.

The False Prince has died.

 

Dear reader, remember how all things are impermanent in this life.

Like the False Prince,

You will soon die and your body disintegrate.

One hard to swallow reality this is

But sooner or later you will have to accept this.

 

Remember that compassionate monk in the story?

Yes, his Dharma teachings indeed saved the Prince’s soul.

And placed it in a new body.

This is no longer the body of the False Prince

But the body of the One.

The False Prince has died

Yet his True Self has been freed.