The real puzzle won't get solved, I think, unless we figure out our true date of birth. What is our true date of birth? Let's say someone was born on 18th April, in the year 1990. But the point is: were they really born that day? It would be more correct to say that they were incarnated into their body that day. But when was it that their soul was first created? And how much of that soul is theirs, and how much of that soul is still God's? The crux that we need to remember here is the fact the God Itself is the ultimate origin of everything: both the physical cosmos, and the souls as well.
In psychiatry, they mention the concept of the unconscious mind. They say that only 10% of our mind is conscious, while the rest 90% is unconscious. And they also say that this unconscious mind is more vital than the conscious mind. I must make a case here about the subject that is called psychiatry. It's a fake subject; it has no foundation. But some of their concepts, I find, are useful.
If God had split Itself to create our souls, as it must have been the case, then who are we? It still must be God. Where does this We come from? I currently don't have an elaborate answer for that (though I do have some intuition about it). But the simple fact and the simple reality is that We do have come to be! And our origin must have been God, if we unanimously accept that God is the only uncreated thing and, therefore, the only uncreated origin. If you believe that some aliens had created our minds inside a laboratory in some distant planet: you'll still have to explain how, and where from, those aliens had come into existence themselves, and who or what had created their minds. Anyway, the simple reality is enough for this current discussion: The sheer difference between You and Me!
I've had the fortune of living in a shared room with a roommate, for about a year. It wasn't a very pleasing experience. I could always feel an invisible ghost of that other guy. We might be both silent after a little chat, or after complaining about the food to the landlady; but I could always feel, after we became silent, the presence of a suppressed entity—and he would feel mine—and there would be a sort of multiplication of some multiplication, etc. God had split Himself. And thus we have all come to be. Basic reality attests to these two facts. But here is the fascinating idea: Do we own 100% of our soul after this split?
But before we delve into that question, let's confront this question first: Can we annihilate ourselves? At this moment I would like to quote a certain part of a poem that I wrote a few years ago.
Time Traveler
"I now travel through this 21st Century
World of yours; tired
And sleepless
For years
In this immortal captivity
Of a broken body
And a fractured heart,
Searching my immortal
Death through
That needle's eye
Which has pierced
My sense of the Normal."
We did not take the decision, the decision that had created us. It was taken for us. God had taken that decision, even before we could come into existence!
But, ironically, we can not really annihilate ourselves either! So how much free-will do we really have? Is God a sort of sadistic prison warden? Or is God trying to play some political game with us? Can we kill God? Is God annihilate-able? No. Just as we aren't annihilate-able. ~We don't have free-will, so to speak. We are to choose between two options: Either to become like God (in richness and quality), or suffer pain endlessly.
But how would it feel if we become as good and as absolute as God Himself is? Perhaps we would feel as satisfied and delighted as an artist who has created a masterpiece. And then, maybe, we would be interested in splitting Ourselves to populate that world that we have created with our color—as God creates this one.
We don't have free will. At least not in the exact sense of the word. We would have had, if we were uncreated beings. But the term 'uncreated beings' itself is an oxymoron: if there were many uncreated beings: who among them first came into existence? Who had created that 1st of the uncreated beings?
God is the only uncreated thing. And we should be wise enough to deal with that fact.
Please don't consider me eccentric. It might be just ahead of its time.
As I understand lt:
We, each of us, with will, made ourselves / became separate.
We are what God is. We are small tidbits of God. We have forgotten our original and true nature through identifying with the physical world which we perceive through our five senses.
Once we remember who we are, through discovery of true (tidbit) self / spirit self… we do not have to b e c o m e like God No. We realize we already
a r e at our core! Once we are aware of our true natures we can easily slip into the ocean of Spirt. We never loose our individuality.
We pull the o c e a n o f G o d into our consciousness. Through choice.
And God helps. He welcomes us into his Spirit when He perceives we are 100 percent determined to rejoin His ocean. There are those, such as Krishna, Buddha and Jesus who are helping spirits/souls realize their true essence and rejoin Spirit.
It is beyond the intellect. The true Gift is respecting the essence of all life, including our own.
And our lives are our own for ever and ever!
its almost scary. it would be easier to just slip into blackness and be done with it. But there is something better than darkness.
I wish I knew.
Time Traveler
Let's pretend for an hour
That I was a king
Somewhere in Norway
Five Thousand Years ago
Before Christ could
Save the world
From artificial darkness
Of the human race.
What caused my immortality
Was understood
By those who saw
The future
Through the needle
That bonds the fabric
Of reality
With the threads
Of a Time
Exquisitely personal
To a king.
They made me
Immortal through the skin of a tree
That blossoms somewhere in the Milky Way
Galaxy,
Far from walking
Distance away.
I now travel through this 21st Century
World of yours; tired
And sleepless
For years
In this immortal captivity
Of a broken body
And a fractured heart,
Searching my immortal
Death through
That needle's eye
Which has pierced
My sense of the Normal.
Where does this scene, shot by Eric, stand against this thread?— http://bit.ly/22HeW92
In it there are all the elements of the real world: Suppression, tyranny, interconnected tyranny, corruption on all levels, marketing sex and sexuality, "money is God" attitude, bhagavad gita(!), the kind of posterior in women that men find attractive, deception, the ghost, and even the fingerprints of God. This is the real world.
Had they only ever teased my sister (I don't have one, though), they should have known what spirituality is really all about!
No, in reality, in real life situation, I would do my best to stay as far away from them as possible. That's the wisest thing that one may do. It wouldn't affect my kundalini awakening or third eye opening. There still would be much room left in the world.
And we've just glimpsed California. And one small part thereof. The world is much bigger. This is real spirituality!
The "snake" (in the Garden of Eden) is what pulled us away from our awareness of our own divinity.
Kundalini force which had been in the upper chakras was gradually pulled downward into the lower chakras through identification with body and material world. Some say the apple equates to the sense of sex which exists in the center of the "garden" (body).
All we have to do is physically reverse the flow of attention away from the senses and back into the upper chakras where we become more and more aware…..
But alas, as Jesus mentioned, the harvest is abundant but the laborers are few.
What is that harvest? If we knew we would be motivated to gather it!!!
Perhaps it is understanding, it is relief, it is gentleness, it is ease, it is peace, it is open like a flower. and light like a butterfly
and, somehow, it is eternal.
I had to type that "Mariner's" poem in typing class in Jr. High day after torturous day. Its where I developed many bad keyboarding habits. We had to type fast and furiously because speed was more important than accuracy. blah. I can barely look upon it. :-(
I was thinking a while ago that the term 'kundalini awakening' is too archaic. I was thinking to change it to sunflower awakening, or something like that.
But something struck me. It now seems to me that although the term is archaic, it has some real significance.
In the cinema, Citizen Kane, Orson Welles first introduced the imagery of the jar, after Kane had lost the election to James W. Gettys; as his illicit love affair with Susan Alexander had leaked out and was published in every newspaper of the very state where we was standing as a political candidate. And in the last scene of the movie, Orson Welles makes the camera glide past an array of various shaped and sized jars and vases.
What he was really implying was the idea that Charles Forster Kane's consciousness was trapped numerous times during his life inside various encapsulations of temporal reality. Each jar in the last scene depicts an individual painful experience (or defeat): a trauma that he could never share with anyone, and fully recover from; simply because the nature of the experience was such, that they were ultimately not share-able.
It's important to mention here that it's not only a 'social defeat' that may create such encapsulations; but if we torture any sentient beings in any way that really hurts them—that, too, would create a temporal encapsulation for the torturer. This process is vividly recorded in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
But how does it all relate to the term kundalini awakening?
The concept of the kundalini goes something like this: there is a serpent which is coiled at the root of the human spine, and is sleeping. The snake has formed many coils. The snake can be awakened.
Now, do you notice the similarity of this imagery to Orson Welles' imagery in the last scene of the movie, Citizen Kane?
Kane's consciousness was encapsulated many times—hence his consciousness, so to speak, had squeezed and coiled itself numerous times during his life (just as kundalini has many coils). Both the imageries are, in essence, almost synonymous.
'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?'
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemèd there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!—
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173253
re "It's important to mention here that it's not only a 'social defeat' that may create such encapsulations; but if we torture any sentient beings in any way that really hurts them—that, too, would create a temporal encapsulation for the torturer. This process is vividly recorded in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner."
1. 'God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.
2. The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariner's hollo!
And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!
3. Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.
And some in dreams assurèd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
4. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
5. See! see! (I cried) she (the ship) tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She (the ship) steadies with upright keel!
The western wave was all a-flame.
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres?
Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out;
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip—
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The hornèd Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
The souls did from their bodies fly,—
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!
6. 'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not down.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay dead like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.
An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
7. Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
8. How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.
'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.
The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.'
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'
9. First Voice
'But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing—
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?'
Second Voice
Still as a slave before his lord,
The ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast—
If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.'
First Voice
'But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?'
Second Voice
'The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated.'
I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.
10. But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring—
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray—
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.
11. And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart—
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third—I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.
12. Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.'
13. 'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The Hermit crossed his brow.
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?'
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
14. Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
15. O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemèd there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!—
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
What if we ever impeach God? That is not something that is really impossible; sooner or later, each of us would receive a knock on the door, and would get to be on the other side.
What if someone of us dethrone God and take charge of the universe? Well, there must be some reason to act out such an extreme step—or will they just do it for fun?
If they do it for fun, then they would get encapsulated by temporal reality; because they would have hurt God, who is an innocent being, the the process. And anyone who has been encapsulated by temporal reality; such a being, by definition, can not be God.
But what if they beat God very hard? What if they put God into some sort of a prison, a prison from which God may not escape?
But even then, God would still remain an innocent being. And such a being, whose heart and conscience is pure, would still outperform the satanic being who has imprisoned them. Because things like creativity, innovation, etc: they come from the purity of the spirit and of the soul. And the satanic being, who would first imprison God, would first have to invent a system of encryption. And it thus means that they would have to be creative!
But creativity and the goodness of the soul are interrelated: the more goodness of the soul, the more creativity.
So here, too, God would ultimately win.
What if we ever ask God this question: "Why did you split yourself at all? Now I've come into being, and I can't even annihilate myself!"
I think God's answer would be: "Are you dissatisfied with this existence? Don't you like being here?"
I saw a dream last night (on 28th March, 2016) and I would love to record it here:
I was in a temple, with my father. He got engaged in some overwhelming religious emotion while he was there, and I started touring and wandering around the temple. Some time later, as I was about to leave the temple, while passing through a large antechamber, I met the principle priest of the temple.
He showed me a figure, something that looked liked to me to be the statue of a very dark-drown rhino. This rhino-like figure just had its horn missing.
The priest told me that this is the forehead of God. Just then, someone, I don't know who they were, placed a cone on the nose of this rhino: the fashion in which they placed this cone shaped artifact, came across to me, as if they were mounting a nuclear warhead on a missile.
This 'horn' contains all the blueprints that were formulated before creating the universe: the complete blueprint of the human body (to the level of its atomic precision); the design and structure of atom, particles, electricity, gravity—all the blueprints!
It was like a diskette that you would mount on a computer.
After the horn was finally mounted and when the rhino derived its missing piece—I could sense the joy and excitement of God—the joy and excitement that is comparable to an artist's: an artist who had been engulfed by an encompassing artistic impulse, but didn't have their tool set ready; and now, the joy and excitement when they finally have it.
Personally, I don't think we would be accusing God if we meet them in person. I think we might be mesmerized by their presence. We might not be wanting to kill God at all!
I once considered that the souls of animals (ie. the soul of tigers, panda bears etc) do not reincarnate. But it just struck me that maybe they, too, reincarnate; and unlike humans, they gradually reincarnate into higher forms—until they incarnate into a human body.
Animals, too, are destined to die, just like us; and after many births and deaths: they might get outright frustrated. When that kind of frustration takes place, they are elevated into a higher form of body: dolphins, tigers, whales, elephants etc; they might like to experience life as a human. Deer, giraffes, rabbits etc; they might like to experience the security of being a lion, tiger, or leopard. The pinnacle, obviously, is human life.
But how many lives does it take to reach that kind of frustration? I really don't know. I guess God always stay by them to assist them (the animals) in this process. It's God, who is in charge, after all.
If an animals is suffering some truly unbearable pain, then God may really get into the picture and help them to bypass some of that pain.
I think there is nothing absolute in being a man or woman. There is no guarantee that I have not been a woman somewhere during my past lives. I can't distinguish between male and female infants; both immediately after birth and during the first months of their life.
So where do all these monumental differences arise between these two sexes? Most of it is due to a combination of real life acting and specific behaviorism that make collective human society run smoothly.
And some other differences are truly real, structural. A large chunk of our consciousness has immediate connection with the body where we have been incarnated. Now it's an entirely separate issue as to the question who had really decided in which body, and in which type of body we would be incarnated—most probably it was God who had decided that. And there may have been factors that had decided God's decision regarding this issue, factors that maybe even It Itself had no control over.
Immediately after death, a soul that doesn't have very clear idea as what it needs to do, or should do, might become restless and even utterly frustrated. So God may let them incarnate into a body that is immediately available. God wanted them to get born in Tahiti. But the soul couldn't wait that long: no couple in Tahiti were interested in mating—No one would mate in Tahiti for the next two years! So the soul had to choose to get born to parents in Russia. Sadly, both of the parents work in the alcohol industry.
If I get the power to enter the body of a tiger ~ I assure you ~ may not be immediately; but slowly, silently, gradually: I would start to feel like a tiger. And what we feel, that we behave. Every good professional actor is aware of this fundamental principle.
Would I quit the internet now? I don't think so; I'm liking it more than ever!
I feel so interconnected.
"Think of how transformative word processing, video games, and social networks have been, and then extend that to virtual workspaces, fully immersive entertainment, and virtual worlds shared with people from around the globe. Imagine that five to ten years from now, instead of Skyping, you and a friend chat at a table on a virtual Piazza Navona, pulling up screens, holograms, and whiteboards as needed, then teleport to Yankee Stadium to catch a game. That’s certainly within the realm of possibility, although getting there will require time and a great deal of research and innovative technology, in areas ranging from displays to computer vision to perception, and much more."
Blog (Oculus) — Welcome to the Virtual Age
Encounter
We were riding through frozen fields in a wagon at dawn.
A red wing rose in the darkness.
And suddenly a hare ran across the road.
One of us pointed to it with his hand.
That was long ago. Today neither of them is alive,
Not the hare, nor the man who made the gesture.
O my love, where are they, where are they going
The flash of a hand, streak of movement, rustle of pebbles.
I ask not out of sorrow, but in wonder.
I think that the Mariner poem should rather stay. It might prove to be helpful as a reference, in future.
~ To KLH, do read what I've freshly added to that comment about teachers ~
This thread needs one more comment from Rodeon.
Then it's over.
This thread is not under your jurisdiction, Rodeon. I, the creator of this thread, have the last word. THEN its over… If and when I have a last word… which, right now, I don't. Who knows, I could be posting / adding poems and creative excerpts here for years!
PS Also, you are welcome to continue sharing your great insights and poetry selections!
PSS That added bit about teachers was rather interesting!
Heaven
Heaven is close, heaven is far
Like a flickering flame or a twinkling star
Heaven is found in all that is made
In a water drop or a green grass blade
Heaven is space so far away
Containing the stars and the milky way
And right here on earth so close at hand
Heaven is sunlight warming the land
And In the breeze we hear heaven's call
Quietly whispering to us all.
Teachings of Chaitanya Mahaprabhu
Chaitanya Mahaprabhu has left one written record in Sanskrit called Siksastakam. Chaitanya's epistemological, theological and ontological teachings are summarised as ten roots or maxims (dasa mula). The statements of amnaya (scripture) are the chief proof. By these statements the following ten topics are taught.
Krishna is the Supreme Absolute Truth.
Krishna is endowed with all energies.
Krishna is the ocean of rasa (theology).
The jivas (individual souls) are all separated parts of the Lord.
In bound state the jivas are under the influence of matter, due to their tatastha nature.
In the liberated state the jivas are free from the influence of matter, due to their tatastha nature.
The jivas and the material world are both different from and identical to the Lord.
Pure devotion is the practice of the jivas.
Pure love of Krishna is the ultimate goal.
Krishna is the only lovable blessing to be received.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chaitanya_Mahaprabhu
Why? Eye sea . I see. I c. Icy . The form in which I write is art. And not in need of edit or spell check. .I pulled most my stuff down and don't write here for this reason.
Once, there was a frog pond
On a distant shore.
No one quite remembers
What year it was or where.
Just your average pond,
All mossy green and brown,
But, also quite unusual,
For tadpoles stayed year round!
They wouldn't grow their legs
And they wouldn't grow their arms!
No, they hid underwater
Lurking free from harm.
Above them croaked their brothers,
Their cousins and their aunts
Who long ago had left the pond
To live a brand new life.
The frogs had all grown arms
And legs they liked to show
To all the little tadpoles
Squirming down below.
"Come out! Come out!" the frogs would croak,
"Come out and join our fun!"
"No, no!" called all the polliwogs,
"Our pond's where we belong!"
Friendly frogs above the pond
Would visit every day
To watch the little tadpoles
And guard them as they played.
Every now and then,
A tad would need advice
A question to be answered,
For all frogs were quite wise.
But, few tads lifted faces
To ask frogs for advice.
Tadpoles rarely did this,
(Except for once or twice.)
Yet, those who asked and listened
To the words a wise frog croaked
Would surely be rewarded
With little bumps of growth.
"This is what you too will do!"
A wise old frog explained,
"You will soon stop wriggling
And leap with legs instead!
This is what we want for you!
Yes, you all should know
What a happy life you'll live
When your small legs grow!
The pond is brown and dingy,
Let's go, you polliwogs!
Loose your tails, grow your arms
And become full-grown frogs!
Why stay in murky water
When you can hop around?
Come up where there's sun-shine
And blue sky all around!"
well, no not a lily pad … but thanks for asking.
In a spring beyond the pond
There lived the biggest frog
He sat contemplating
Everything he saw.
He loved every tadpole
And every polliwog.
He waited for each to grow
Into a full grown frog
But, all the little tadpoles
Knew nothing of his love.
All the little tadpoles
Cared not for life above.
But the frogs wanted to explain:
"Big Frog cares; he has a plan …
And if you want to know
What he wants for tadpoles
Your arms and legs will grow!
The pond is brown and dingy
Come join in Big Frog's spring.
Grow your legs and join us ...
The water's ALWAYS fresh and clean!"
~ perhaps the The Big Frog =
consciousness / mind
feeling / love
energy / electricity
intelligence / logic
?
… is "God" really some i m a g i n e d force?
Is Heaven really some i m a g i n e d place?
Or is it is real in that it exists and we see evidence everywhere around us!
And we experience joy in so many ways!
Heaven is a place called earth .my idea of god is the sun. Both very real.
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