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Destination is only Received by Journey # 11

Desires run Life

Day by day, in the changing time, Beautiful sensations convert this moment—changing a being into a tracker. The start of the new day is taking place, amidst new feelings and sensations. The tapers of profound feelings are in every moment, scattering the light of new experiences. Occasionally there is visible dominance of the mental disposition on this being. The eyes see and the heart has consciousness, when the mind is to dominate this being in search of some new technique.
The early voice that rises from the roof of this new life awakens my being.
The eyes fill with tears—the painful sob—are now coming to an end. Along with the painful sob, the caravans of a dreadful mind and evil, clumsy thoughts leave. The convulsive distress which is making the boat of life stagger, has today won the degree of a tracker, and by providing my life the canoe of Peace and the oars of Beautiful feelings, it has bestowed upon me the august, invaluable moment to become a swimmer in the Sea of Quietude.
The Life wandering in the wilderness of suffocation gets a clue to the ‘freeway’ of Silence. The consciousness of Beautiful and ugly moments of Life comes to me and settles all scores. Why can’t I ever show any seriousness in worldly affairs? It seems that:
In some moment, some powerful curiosity has put the impression of its existing seed in the womb of my being.
When? This I do not know. But the seed exists and I am experiencing it in the moments of today.
This consciousness is the consciousness of the ‘existence’ of the indescribability of ‘existence’ and is getting increasingly prominent, day-by-day. It makes the presence of consciousness feel, by taking shape in two leaves rising above the new buds of a burgeoning tree—the two fresh leaves are wrapped in the garments of Peace and Quietude, which are not only making the moments of today Beautiful but are also enriching them. The two leaves are opening every part of my pent up intellect—scattering every thing and every aspect in myriad shapes.
Today, I see that we are all set in small windows and inhaling breath, mindful only of our own comforts; in our eagerness to stand first in every race, we have lost sight of our own ‘identity’. Then a question emerges in my mind:
Who will come first?
The fellow who is strong enough to push another person behind?
When my own race fatigue and bore this life, consciousness knock at the door of my mind. Then I feel as though the throbs of millions of hearts have been absorbed in this being. Then I find myself surrounded with the answer to every question. I lent a new grace to my life, questions:
Is it right to push my body in any direction?
Will you be able to derive pleasure from defeating anybody?
Will you be able to bear the sight of a broken being?
In short, today’s lingering moments put the signs of ‘no’ before these questions; their pause put concrete, as it is in the roots of every race. When I cast a glance at the depth of my being I find myself more selfish than every other person.
Why?
Today, I allow everybody to go ahead of me. Why?
For I do not wish to exhaust myself by running a race.
For by tiring and exhausting myself, I do not wish to alienate myself from my own being.
For on reaching the threshold of Death, I do not wish to feel any sense of remorse.
For every race takes away from one’s own self but not from death.
For today this life is reviving itself and feels that:
We all are sitting in the bivouac of Time and want to obtain the shell of Life by passing sand through the sieve.
Shall we succeed in it?
Today’s moments tell us:
We will not succeed, never succeed.
This weather is very pleasant, bringing to light the hidden parts of a hidden life.
Will this caravan of Time halt amidst the Beauty of the sensations available during this pleasant journey?
Then, in this fine environment, comes a faint voice making us aware of Quiet moments saying:
“Yes, it is the caravans of such a time that pause in the state of prayer and acquire the appellation of Meditation—only the consciousness of some glimpse or ‘awareness’ that comes through the window of a moment, is the genuine consciousness.”
When a drop of moments intoxicates the desire to lie in the lap of these moments and causes tears of renunciation to flow from my eyes, Life looks like an orchard and the being of long laps of Silence. Rather it becomes almost a non-entity. Then we cannot say what further changes occur in it.
Today, the march of Time is inviting the kite of Life to sojourn in the open Sky where our minor desires are getting their fulfillment.
The fulfillment of these minor desires reminded me of the Kalpa Tree which is said to be found in Paradise.
Aren’t those moments of Life which lead to the gratification of all our desires as good as the Kalpa Trees?
Aren’t those moments that yield to Life the Bliss of happy moments a veritable paradise?
In a population of millions, I come across, within fifteen minutes, the same beggar woman I want to see. To meet the same sanyansi I long to see and the same material things I want to enjoy within the space of half an hour, is this period not the Kalpa Tree, which along with wonder also fills our mind with Joy? Which from the rattle of our bones elicits a symphony and which liberates our breath from suffocation? Our lips just twitter, as if a seed is eager to sprout up.
It seems that:

When the turmoil of thoughts and reflections undertakes the responsibility of elucidating, some hidden meaning of the office of intellect stops its activities automatically. Why?
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