As it is, ... infinite

Amazement, the smog draws near. To take us to green forests. Peals of laughter, shoulder to cry upon, these friends will lead us to dangers ahead. We travel, we earn, we eat, we love, we worry, but it eventually ends in a shallow bed. Moments of inner peace, reflection, retrospection. Simplicity, thoughts floating like single clouds on a clear day, pale blue. No more quests, no more journeys, tired bodies needing rest. A break from the soft parade. Masquerading as student or teacher, the needy or the helper, the one or the just another one, takes its toll. Draw your eyes closer. Take a dip with us.

We are back. Into a dream. Or is this life?

Unison, confused yet in control. The lack of sense, yet a clarity of idea. Childlike innocence, no more judgement. Hunger. Break the rules by which our thoughts had been bound into a narrow corridor. Enjoy talents, creations, give rise to new elder forests. Break through religions, start a cult. Celebrate love and laughter, swim into a river, whirling and undulating. It will lead us to banks, trails leading us to doors. Taking us through mysterious lands. Feeling the true existence of every moment. With music as our only friend. Friends as our only companion.

The time is up. The parade will begin soon. Grant us one more hour to glorify this day. Shower the time with remembrance. Bring back a treasure before we leave in search of soft lies. Wait for the dawn, draw a mask and move ahead. Yet yearn to be paroled, for forever, before death draws near. Vagaries of life, whether to live now or die, trying to live some other day. Who will remember us? Why are we bound to the eyes that lie and the arms that chain. Is it the end, or do I have to watch this same reel again, waiting for being cast.

Have you been born yet or unconsciously gazing at an echo?

Ship of fools !!

Is knowing as easy as people show it is. The mystery behind knowing it all: It is not so mach about finding the meaning of a doors song, but to enjoy a meaning totally having forgotten the earlier one upon its discovery in a previous ritual. A mirage spawns on every song, a glow of colors, a stage, with a caesaresque-poet, delivering a sermon, trying to lead his people into corners of truth and turmoil. Where confusion is no longer an enemy, but a key to opening any door which could lead into air over an abyss. The excitement, hysterical peals of childish laughter, of lost ways and conversations, followed by sudden and utter silence, unison, waiting for the scream of the butterfly. These secrets are dark, humongous, make you feel lost. One feels restless, like searching for "a strangers hand, in a desperate land." That hand is leading all of us into our journeys. Journey to various places, to find various treasures, to commit mistakes and learn from them. The journey continues, but there is a latent feeling, of bidding goodbye, the hand will set us free, leaving only a chain of thoughts. This message, gets lost within a poster of Scarface or in a city of tall structures, now rubble. The thoughts, either make no sense or have obscured only to be constructed back on a later ritual. I am awake. Or closed to a world of magic.

Madmans Quibblings

The problem is, I have forgotten half the things.. and i was too dazed to remember the other half !! In fact I took Jim Morrison's quote of "learn to forget" way too seriously ... All that remains is a hazy past, filled with long cryptic nights, misty dawns, sounds of laughter in the air, a rumbling stomach and random clues to trips with friends surrounded. Only persistent feeling was that of joy, child like happiness, everything was dazed and confused, and yet simple and exactly how it should have been. Wondrous bliss filled each noon as I scanned my fading memory for which month it was, remembering the day seemed too arduous and ridiculous a task.
All i knew was that the future was uncertain and the end was always near with a past forgotten and a confused present .....

Madmans Quibbling ....

Spirituality is often mistaken for religion. It is not so much about finding a God to worship but finding the God within oneself. Any connection with the soul or an activity that bring true inner peace and invokes contemplation on a superior level could well be Spiritual..

So you think you can tell...

Everything is "written" or so as it is said. Life has a complicated yet beautiful way of functioning in circles. Decisions or choices which are already made are thrust upon us to be re made, simply to make us believe that we are in control. Situations manifest themselves in ways such that we are made to believe that we manipulate the choice we make, in accordance with the one that is already "written", and still feel in control. Are we are the ones controlling and leading our life towards our destiny, or some external hand that is incessantly leading us down the path. If the latter is true, then how much are we in control. Who is the one who "writes" it all down and scripts it ever so brilliant to make the matrix seem non existent. "There is someone in my head but its not me". Brilliant poets have emphasized that when you don't know where you are going, any road will lead you to it in some words or others. Even to the extent that you can not change the direction of the wind, but you can change your course to suit it.

How do you reach "IT" when you do not even know where you are going. Is it a simple case of the aimless never getting lost. Would you trust the invisible force to do justice? Do we own our lives or we are just a medium through which a hidden director films a bigger picture? Can you simply hang yourselves on someone Else's words or in this case, unheard scripts?

I have felt at peace and eternal bliss when i have let the script run its course. Somehow it has felt better when i haven't tried to control things that have happened but rather enjoy them unraveling itself in front of me. I felt in sync. Sync with simplicity and easiness. "No more money, No more fancy dress, the other kingdom seemed by far the best, until it reveals the jaws of incest". Why does Jim Morrison say, he had to set us free, since we will never follow him. He knew something, the magnificent and well read poet that he was, but he couldn't tell it to us. He had been through "The doors" and often come back to leave us clues. Clues that could only help us. It was his job, as a shaman, to help the erring fools bound by material gains.

It was so vivid, lucid and omnipresent, yet unnervingly beautiful that we wouldn't have understood its cardinality. Until and unless we ourselves are the discovers, it has no meaning, no emphasis, no importance, the lesson has lost its meaning.

Jim Morrison poem.

Moment of inner freedom
when the mind is opened and the
infinite universe revealed
& the soul is left to wander
dazed & confus'd searching
here & there for teachers & friends.

The sum quote of my life

Pain heals, Chicks dig scars, glory lasts forever.

This post is not just a dialogue from the movie Replacements. It means the world to some of the people who can relate to it. Those some who have in some way or other have sacrificed a part of their lives to celebrate a Genius. Those some who are not related by blood but by passion for the ONE. Just so that it never gets lost in the mindless messages on facebook i want to keep it b"logged". Whenever the going gets tough, belief and hope are tiny rays of light escaping through cracks in rocks into the darkest caves. No amounts of eloquent words, waxing lyrics, ballads of victory can do justice to what this inspires in the men who know what the words in that post mean. It is the light of Elendil.

This is what many lived for, this is what they will tell their kids and grand kids, this is what i would want to read before i bid adieu.

A Rangers Quibbling

I can live in a tree house with just my horse than be a caretaker of a mansion and a job ...

Madmans Quotes

It becomes even more difficult to explore the unknown when you have lost the difference between known and unknown !!

Reality is a relative term.

journey to the Treasure Chest !!!

"Desire!!" It is what keeps me alive. A desire to find the Treasure Chest, based on the faith that everyone of us have a destiny to fulfill. I wander through time and ages seeking that treasure, finding intermediate clues along the journey. The journey through vast barren lands, encountering numerous treacherous peaks and varying changes of climate. Hair, color, hygiene all take a back seat as I move single minded towards the treasure chest. Upon reaching this final destination, the joy of discovering the gold, is often brindled by a lingering question, "What did I cherish most, the journey or the treasure?"
The journey made us what we are but the treasure drove us in the first place. This journey is what i will bank on for future, but will I have the same passion for the next treasure? Would the journey hold the same significance had I come to an end and realized there is no treasure chest awaiting?
Is it really fair to reveal the contents of the treasure chest to a fellow traveler who is still searching? Does he want the momentous pleasure of getting a treasure hunter badge , or does he seek the knowledge and truth that the journey offers. Who makes this decision?
This could be another intermediate clue towards my treasure.