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Knowledge is the Largest Miracle # 5

My Intellect World


Just as the sunrise’s dew began to disappear, I experienced a similar situation when my feelings started their journey on the rail of thoughts and reflections. Is there anything called intellect? I had this knowledge at the age of forty. Though the ends of emotions and sentiments are decided by means of intellect, I was ignorant.
Even today, I remember those moments when I remained absorbed in recognizing good and bad, right and wrong, and natives and strangers. At such moments, some feeling or perception of denial always rubbed shoulders against me. I never thought of entering the womb of this feeling or perception. Whenever I found the solution to some profound problem, I was enveloped in the enclosure of ignorance. Nevertheless, my temperament would exclaim, “wow,” and get lost in the next moment.
However, today, when I have an interview with my reflections, much of the dust is being removed from my life; as soon as I step into this world, life becomes visible. I resort to my exploits of knowing the secrets of life hidden in myriad forms, the ways and means of knowing life in the art of living. They suggest that our intellect lies near the source of energy, which makes us human of learning and wisdom.
My breathing speed underwent a change, energy became confirmed in my breaths; suddenly like blood circulation, a feeling began to stir my being:
The attraction of sensual objects,
dazzling fake splendour,
life full of noise and hubbub,
avarice of wealth and fame, and
plaster of hauteur and attachment.
My wisdom made me relinquish all these. The flowing cataracts of passions and emotions, despite their purity, only caused me impatience and unrest. Also, my intellect forced me to rid myself of those elements which had deprived my breaths of freedom. I had not the least consciousness of this—this very energy gave direction to the zigzag foot track of my life and pulled it out of the abyss of dreadful pain.
Had I been in possession of wisdom, my feelings and passions would have been level and balanced. My emotions and passions would not have danced to the tune of my mind, for I know that in me lay daring enthusiasm and dauntless rigid-ness I did not know the use of sense and awareness which could act as light to show me the way. The experience of my passions and emotions proved for me the suggestive of extremely subtle servitude. Though the flows of my passions, emotions, and amusements entertained me at the mental level, my inner fumbling achieved stability only from my sense and intellect.
The entry into this world of intellect is invaluable. In it, today, my questions begin to enter with pride, and answers give them a hearty, warm embrace. I could at least imagine that the depth of life is unfathomable and that the appearance of life is a compound of infinite shapes and appearances. Bravo!
My intellect changed the entire world and when the direction changed, my state, also, underwent a change. My mode of thought and observation also changed. Then one day, a moment soaked my seemingly novel sentiments in an unknown type of attraction and began to unstitch me. It changed my desperation into a tremor and my habits began to move about in a selfish way. A fence of dryness enclosed my life. The hum of my mind stopped. However, my intellect grasped me by the neck firmly! Formerly, my life was attracted by feelings and passions; now it was drawn toward thoughts and reflections.
What is this world? Why is it here? What is its nature? Why is it so? Who am I? Why am I here? Whence I came and where do I have to go? Why did I come here and why am I to leave? My moment came to a pause over these questionings.
Do I have any right upon myself?
If so,
why does the feeling of being a mere puppet overtake my breath?
If it does not overtake them,
what is the reason?
Is there any sense of living?
Relationships, restraints, differences of thoughts, and intervals in the movement of life, why do these exist? Why should I be a girl? Who decided it? Why do I have no fondness for good clothes and jewellery like other people? Who will resolve this riddle whether I am insane or sane? Countless questions such as this have built their hives like bees upon my life and the buzz of questions have begun to sting me. It was not a beehive that could be swept away with a broom.
The state of pain, arising from a sob of anguish, finds itself inert, unsuccessful, incompetent, and inefficient. Sunk in the depths of unique burden, my existence got stunned. The awareness which was writ large upon my countenance, ever lost in muteness, causes self-pity in me. I ask myself: “Shaheer, how can I look after you?” My pitiable plight begins to say goodbye to my intellect. The relief of four or five hours that I receive from taking sleep pills, saves me from going to an asylum. Not to speak of existence, my life is in torment. When I stir it, I am in a state of fever and I immediately feel that the visit of emotions and passions were better. 
Where did I become stuck?
Shall I find relief after going to the asylum? I sensed madness approaching every moment. However, even in this state, I always cherished one question:
Shall I like to live in feelings and emotions once again?
No, never at all!
I did not wish to go back to my previous life, but had no knowledge of my future life. I was caught in a whirlpool. Now, what would become of me? What would happen? The world that I had seen until now looked absurd and worthless. What should I say? I liked to be lost in this darkness, though this darkness might take me to the asylum; maybe, it guided me towards the path of a new life. Well, let the darkness be my choice. Instead of leading a common life like other people, I am prepared to die in this gloom.
I see these experiences which had become identified with life. I could never jump out of them. How do I account for this question, rising from the cycle of time?
Would I like to retrace my steps?
It proved a test of my daring rigidness. It became the step that I had taken into some unseen part of some unknown life, which was about to take me into the lap of quietude. Though at the present it was flowing, causing disturbances in complete darkness, I had not an iota of desire to beat a retreat. Shaheer was being carried away by the cycle of time. Friendship and relationship all pass like the caravans of moments. Today there is darkness and gloom, as compared with this time all pleasures of emotions and feelings are dull and insipid.
I had no wish to retreat and no knowledge of what lay ahead! What should I do? My moments decided to take me into quietude, where I laid for six months. In this state, hours seemed to pass like moments. To get out of the house was the most difficult task. The desire not to see anyone would take me in the morning gloom for a walk. If I saw anyone coming in front, I would at once change my way. Everyone’s company caused me pain; however, I did like the company of trees, the murmur of the flowing water, the sight of mountains, and the sky and birds, why? Human's sight did not appeal to me because their incompletion and imperfection suggested the imperfect and crippled state of existence.
The delicacy of trees,
the liquidity of water,
the mountain summits,
the expansion of the sky, and
the flight of the birds,
all, shook my inner life.
My life would bow to them and make entreaties to them. While walking on the earth, I would apologize for stepping upon it. My pitiable plight made me wander in a unique darkness. Whom should I tell? Who would listen and console me? Was there anyone? Maybe the Vedas and the Shastras would provide a reference to this very unknown ocean of existence. I was allergic to humans and could not get a doctor. There was an unusual plight in the deep recesses of my being; the plight which had no longing for life or death.
In my journey of life, in the darkness of trees, birds and beasts, rivers and rivulets, mountains, and the sky were my companions.
Was I not repeating my journey from one element to the five elements?
Were not my impressions of several lives making themselves manifest before me?
Was I not proceeding to a unique plane from attachment to detachment?
Was not my experience of millions of years passing in the shape of moments and seeking my recognition?
I felt that my grasp of the greed and attachment, the caravans of feelings, and the pits of ideas, all began to be drenched with tears.
I could bear no trouble or pain; the helplessness of my moments of worry stung me. The longing for good feelings sucked my blood; the worldly and mental limitations tormented me. The circles of friends and strangers would catch hold of me. Caught in the mesh of such moments, I cherished a longing for euthanasia. Today, my quietness clandestinely begins to gnaw this net of moments and my breaths begin to frisk about in the deep sense of freedom. The result of my own improve-ment weeping, entreating, and begging gradually was mingled with prayer. After nearly ten days, a question, in the scared state, passed through the moments with a whirring sound. Eventually mustering courage, it rose to its feet softly and said:
“Shaheer, isn't this meditation?”
My existence, which was reluctant to acknowledge my obligation to any thought or feeling, did brought a frown to its face but paid no heed to it.
One morning as I returned from my walk, I sat down with closed eyes. I thought I had opened my eyes after five or seven minutes, but actually four and a half hours had elapsed. This period, which was to cover one hour and twenty minutes, spread over four and a half hours! I peeped within and felt that I lay in the lap of profound silence. My ears were bereft of hearing, my mind was mute, and my being in tranquil repose. This tranquility and quietude were so intense that I started to weep. This weeping, which began with a single drop, turned into a torrential rain; my sob became a shriek and caused an echo. Every pore of my body grew tearful and began to flow. Why did I weep? At that time, I did not know.
Today, I know.
The tranquility I had been hankering after came to me in its own accord. For a thirsty existence a single drop is enough, but here a river began to flow. Then who could keep its balance? Who could express its gratitude? Only my tears could do so. After that I took my bath and lay down in bed. Today, I find my body in the state of true relaxation.
Today, again, my old question feels the pulse of time and makes its appearance. Today, as I look at the face of my question, an unalloyed feeling within me attracts and cajoles me. Then thoughts approach me and watch, I ponder over the matter. Oh! There is no thought or reflection, no question, no feeling or emotion… Then it must be meditation! No, no, how can it be meditation? I never undergo any penance, never did any worship, or any act of austerity. Now I have actually gone mad!
I have so far heard and read that one can acquire the meditative state only after prayer and worship and by resorting to ascetic activities, that only sages and seers could do meditation. Could I do it? No, no, Shaheer had gone mad. I am already in a frenzied state. How can I sit in meditation? What have I done in this connection so far? What am I doing? Nothing at all. I am only quiet. However, can mere quietness achieve anything, when even actions fail to achieve anything? I am not to think over it, let it be meditation or non-meditation. I am not to fall into this bewilderment. Stop! Stop! Only let quietude prevail.
Let no thought pass through me
Let no feeling or emotion flow into me
For many days the moments of strife kept me in their hold, but this question did not let me go; it wanted to perform its duty. How could I trust myself when such a big boon was falling to my fate?
My tantalized sob would watch the trees
My oblique glance asked the breezes
My unembellished ears watched the birds
My breaths in a singsong state watched the sky
Then everything became automatically clear to me without anybody uttering a word.
Changed! Changed! The season changed! The depth of silence and the sense of the intensity of peace underwent a change.
I felt that not I, but the trees were looking at me
Not I, but every minute particle was watching me
I, with a rueful countenance, became enveloped in shyness; I was besieged with the feeling of sweet frenzy, looked all round with half-open eyes.
My rueful look was smoothed by nature
My shyness washed my tears away
My feeling of madness was removed by quietness and peace. I felt as though I had been born only today. Like the Television channel, my channel underwent a change. A new Shaheer, a new world! The new 'rasa' (sweet juice) of a new life began to flow. Question which had ever confronted me, and I had ever avoided with its answer laid the foundation of a new and fresh life!
Today, I cannot reject the piercing glance of this question and refuse to meet its request, nor have I any excuse or false promise to keep it off. Thus, the travel of the question becomes the pilgrimage of my new life.
What is the milestone of my new path? From where did I get it? There was no human around in whom I could repose my faith. Another issue was that I had allergy to humans, therefore, I shut my door upon them.
Now began the path of the Vedas, the Shastras, and the granth from where I could get the answers. I at once thought of the library. It was the miracle of that question.
The next morning as I got up, I headed for the Surrey Library. I went with downcast eyes, lest anybody should see me and I should see them. The question, by encouraging me, kept me in a well-protected state and the first book I picked was Jeon ki teon dhar Dini chadaria(The Cloth Sheet was Kept intact as it Was) by Osho (Rajneesh).

Set in the new world which was named by my feelings and perceptions "Agyat Sansar" (the Unknown world).
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