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Wakeful Meditation of Sheer Bliss
I Make It That Way
In this world of my own creation happiness appears to be my primary and ultimate priority. This joy, this ease, and unutterable simplicity of life where no gods other than pure love can guide my next thoughts, feelings, and actions.
Love, mighty and invincible, that keeps at the threshold all that garden variety of clowns posing as authorities who may want to make a difference in this world of my own make. Even as I look at them, they instantly turn into some cute harlequin creatures in their colorful parade of leaders, preachers, millionaires, and similar folks of a synthetic happiness which depends on others' ceaseless applause, or the mercy of their whimsical deity of money.
Oh, how lovable can look all those faces in their constant unrest, that incessant game of conflict that's feeding their hunger for a crumb of power in the tribe! Living in a delusion that their opinion really makes any difference, except maybe within their body's physiology of turning food and oxygen into crap.
Yes, it takes a true art of soul to summon a gigantic compassion and embrace that world of self-inflicted suffering and turn it into a symphony of a divine pathos only found in those noble and generous verses of poetry.
Just a Story of a Sovereign Mind
I see the world immersed in this love, so boyishly carefree and still laughingly chasing some colorful butterflies on soft and aromatic meadows of a far away youth! But yes, these feet have climbed those many steeps of weakness, doubt, and confusion, leaving behind some deep footprints in the soil soaked with tears and sweat. Hence this love and understanding, as god-unknown knows that I've been there.
Like a flower that sprouted out from a world's dumping site came this compassion giving an innocent meaning to everything that meets the eye. Life is so beautiful---probably just because I say so. And all those scary boogie-men seemingly having something like an imitation of a mind and a heart can be so lovable---maybe just because I say so.
Then, this loyal and forgiving body of mine is so saturated with vitality and relaxed strength---probably for no other reason but because I say so. And nothing out there has any suchness until I give it one---it's MY perception; it's MY consciousness, MY choice how I want to experience any detail of it. And in this inner world where everything is MINE, there is only one volition, MY OWN that keeps me riding on the crests of all waves and tsunamis usurped by the outer world.
It comes so easy to love it, as I am realizing that all of it is outside my personal space---the only space in the whole universe reserved just for me. With no one capable of occupying it, affecting it, changing it.
Yes, once experienced that way, its all significance changes forever, and in the playhouse of my mind and my heart I can easily see it any which way I choose---while I can still see clearly every game they are playing.
How tirelessly they are playing them, as if they will play them forever, while not realizing how ultimately none of them will end up leaving them with a trophy in their hands. All that power struggle, all that competing, and prestige, and advantage for nothing. That comes as an imposing truth as I look at the ruins of every mighty civilization that ever paraded on the surface of this beautiful planet of ours---as if it was going to last forever.
Choosing Our Own Reality
In a playful theatre of my mind I can envision these atoms of my body scattered around with their unfathomable number in the mini-galaxy of my personal space like stars in the heavens, and dancing to some happy tune echoing all the way down to my toes.
With no concern what others may choose to do within their own personal space. Sometimes I may allow myself a little passing illusion that they can hear that happy tune, and maybe get inspired to join that happy dance.
But that passes, with that sweet regret attached to those last words of the bedtime fairy story telling "...and they lived happily ever after". Just for that passing glimpse they may seem to be a little inspired by my calm and my joy---but only to replace it with another round of Sisyphus-like pushing their boulder up the steep, before it rolls back down waiting for another, and yet another futile push.
When, out of love I try to inspire with words and example, they opt for envy rather than to try themselves to create their own version of peace and happiness. When I point at their needless suffering, they slap me with that old and worn out adage: "We are all only human".
Some may even add to it how my happiness is an artificial one because it has no justification in outside events and circumstances. They just can't see that no outside circumstances can produce happiness if we insist on feeling miserable---like some billionaires, leaders, or celebrities are proving it.
Well, that doesn't make them any less lovable in my world that insists on loving without "deserving it" being a condition.
Ultimately No One Ever Comes Out a Winner
Like I said, I have been there, with both my feet firmly buried in the mud of self-deceit and other popular ego's games. I know how defensive mechanisms work, as I was putting up that knowledgeable front of someone else's words.
What a poor devil was I, parroting around those quotations and slogans of wisdom which deep inside me didn't mean a thing. So, when someone of the same mentality opens their mouth, I know exactly where they are coming from.
But what is left for me other than loving them all? What victory would my obsolete ego gain by my getting into an intellectual argument with them? Not so long ago, just for fun and a sporty kicking the intellectual crap back and forth, I took a part in some religious discussions on a forum---just to exit as fast as I entered, upon witnessing a gallery of religious personalities who didn't have much to show for all that teaching about tolerance, peace, and allowing others to have their own opinion.
But here I go again with my refrain of this wakeful meditation---how could I end it up without loving them all? They just couldn't help being themselves and following their own inner guide. Can we really be so cruel as to pull the rug under anyone's feet, if standing there is the core of who they are?
For, when all the dust of personal differences would settle down, who really wins there? These days I am witnessing this incredible divide in the wonderful nation of my neighborhood, and as always I am simply waiting till the fighting spirits get tired of their conflict, with adrenals exhausted from this useless running in circles.
Every conflict seems to need time for both sides to stay at one point sitting in their corner of the ring, with no stamina left for another round. The time comes when those initial loud slogans hang in the air having lost all previous meaning. As history is so clearly attesting, no ideology can survive people's loss of interest after every tenet of it becomes a dry, lifeless, and sterile parroting.
All Gods at Peace
People are so divinely silly in their games of power, probably putting up quite an entertaining show for their many gods. Those loud mouths preaching love and tolerance don't display much of it with their personal example; and those shouting about freedoms don't show any willingness to give freedom to others who don't share their opinions.
While all along those gods up there--- in whose name all this divine crap is going on down here---don't seem to show any hostility towards one another. How can you not love these people, as no one could ever point at the skies and say: "Look, our loving gods are having a fight up there, so we have to continue our fights if we want to be good followers".
On any given day we can't detect anything even remotely resembling a "celestial struggle". Oh, please, we have outgrown those meanings of thunderstorms! Seems like gods are at peace up there---which they have always tried to inspire.
As I am talking about all this stuff, I wonder if anybody is doubting that much of it may belong under the title of this article, "My Wakeful Meditation of Sheer Bliss". Could anyone actually experience all this farce going on as cute, lovable, forgivable, and quite ordinary?
Well, apparently I can. In this mood I can see Charles Manson, and Hitler, and the Devil himself as charming entities---and I know it's hard to get. For, that critical part of us is always on the watch, always distinguishing "right" from "wrong".
In the absence of this certain mindset it seems next to impossible to blend everything human into a highly delicious treat for the soul. That's why it's called a "meditation", not a cataloging of people according to our values.
There are no "discriminating criteria" in meditation, whether "wakeful" or that "sleeping" version of it. In this article I tried to present what all human drama could look like when we forgive, and when it doesn't matter one bit.
Oh, yes, so much of it has been mentioned as if to point at the "wrongness" of our little soap opera, personal and global, but I tried to put it all in the frame---no matter how fragile---of a love that insists on prevailing.
I hope some of you succeeded to take it that way, maybe even got a little inspiration out it.