Destination is only Received by Journey # 14

Death of the Body

Today, brief moments of detachment, lying stretched under the cover sheet of frenzy, invites this being to dance to the rhythm of Nature.
This tipsy state is the state of demanding one’s own self from Nature, for it sees that:
It is only while traversing this path that the clusters of thoughts and reflections gradually begin to slip.
This being sees the torn shred of fate which the threads of good wishes are sewing with the needle of concentration.
I see—this furnace of life—parches the grains of desires—which today wants to extinguish itself. It knows that it will be wiped out of existence but know also—this clay of the fireplace is eager to become the clay of a pitcher—so that it might acquire not a heated ‘existence’, but a cold one.
I know that in these breaths lies not only the warmth of a new path but also the desire to reach its destination. It tires this Life and it wants riddance from this desire; it will be lost totally in Silence—that it might be a night, when there is night and turn into the day, when it is the day.
Something is happening again today. At the sight of the Beautiful pinkish, fresh morning some channel within me has changed; when I look around in all directions, all the particles in the Sky brighten up. It looks so delightful and sweet! Such times Beautify, not only a particular being but the entire world.
Then how can the consciousness of these glimpses spare us from getting frenzied? Then how can we help missing such bewitching glimpses?
My skylark-like heart will naturally long for a drop of rain!
Why don’t the birds of prayer take a soaring flight in heaven?
Then perhaps:
On the ground of detachment, the bird of prayer will get a drop of Love. Then this bird of prayer will get the ideal wings of dedication, taking him on a flight to the unknown.
Perhaps that was why this being of mine always gets bored, despite looking in every hue, in every turn, in every state, and in every direction, of Life.
It might be the journey by car or the journey of Life, and the travel might be on the road or in circumstances, I always sought novelty. This longing might be for a country, for food, for clothing, or for a human to observe the lifestyle of people in all directions—in any case, I am motivated by the desire for something new. I always have, in a higher measure, the capacity for adjustment to every situation and opportunity. I go on indefinitely. However, why am I so fond of novelty? I do not know. I can only proceed on and learn something.
Every track is lovely, but mine don’t.
Every character is right, but I don’t appreciate my own conduct.
Every style of Life is Beautiful, but I cannot adjust myself to any.
I have ever longed to visit every holy place, but I could not feel at home anywhere.
Every occupation appeals to me, but I cannot pursue any.
I find myself weak in every field and this consciousness of my weakness put a full stop to every undertaking.
What is my destination? What path am I searching for?
I do not know.
I only know that this being of mine is quite far away from all discrimination and wickedness; for—if I came into contact with a Sikh family, I would hail them with namaskar! And if I met a Hindu family, I would greet them with Sat Siri Akal! It would happen involuntarily. I would utter these words recklessly. In fact, it has always been hard for me to ‘compromise’ with the situations that have confronted me. Therefore, these two words ‘compromise’ and ‘compulsion’ never have entered my life. To follow my own sweet will—remains the main feature of my life.
I am conscious of a rebellious Shaheer, but I do not know what Shaheer is rebelling against. I am only swayed by the tipsy flow of emotions and feelings.
I do not know whither this being of mine is drifting, as I am unaware of the fact that in the profound Silence of my being dormant, sweet impressions are stretching themselves.
For—in this ‘existence’ sobs a mysterious secret of a mysterious Life. Then the results of the Beautiful feelings of this mysterious Life will be, naturally, mysterious.
We cannot say from when these feelings have been occupying the womb of this being. When our life does not feel satiated with the ray of Quietude emanating from the womb, it craves the full light of the Moon. Then, in the roots of Life’s sweet sensations and feelings indulged in a rhythmic dance, it says:
“That it can bend in such a way that my existence becomes non-existence.”
Then every particle of my being, will utter, “‘You’ and ‘you’ alone.”
But it will be possible only with the grace of the premium mobile, the Supreme Power. I only know that when good seeds of impressions are sown on the land of being, we await the grace of the Unknown Power to shower the rain of mercy.
When it turns our meditation into rain, when Unknown Power, with the Sunlight of knowledge and the ability to affectionately delve, it enables these seeds to sprout up.
In short, today, these feelings and sentiments, in the manner of seeds, want to bury themselves deep into the soil of Quietude.
Now a new consciousness is dawning upon me or another unusual experience is unfolding itself—when I go to bed, occasionally during my sleep my eyes are filled with light and then the consciousness of this light fills my sleep and gives me a rare delight.
Then a little later it not only colours me but also my whole surrounding. It seems that:
This being and Nature have the same rhythmic motion.
By harmonizing with each other, their tunes of new experiences teach this Life the importance of tune and rhythm.
These feelings and sensations are invaluable and have no limit; they seem to be a new ‘awareness’:
By unravelling the knotty skeins of life they introduce me to myself.
The introduction is a comforting and invaluable treasure for this being, dedicated by Nature. When the dedication takes the shape of experience and steps into this being, the savoury Beauty of my sensibilities slowly and slowly takes within its fold the frisky mind and the infatuated heart. As well, it gives the unique thermometer of some occult Energy to gauge the depth of my consciousness. This thermometer makes the high fever ‘of my intellect’ subside.
Now it seems that:
The fluctuations of this dwindling ‘high fever’ have gone to celebrate the marriage of life, and in this task, the five constituents of the body have become handsome friends and members of the marriage party.
I know—full well—why they are so well adorned
They know that their existence depends on the ‘existence’ of this Life
Otherwise, they are as good as ashes! Absolute ashes!

And merely a handful!