Today, I was sitting in the cave of the word Life which seemed to have no margin

The Direction of Feelings and Emotions

Direction may be any but its pursuit has ever been linked with feelings and sentiments. The direction of emotions and feelings which lay scattered in countless fragments always hinted at the direction of my Life; it made its way, though carelessly, through the spate of emotions and passions which recklessly destroy the stream of Life.

My state of Life, flowing in the stream of emotions, collected and combined together countless shapes of Life and manifested a thousand shapes of people, living in narrow, limited cells; but it always remained a losing bargain to study Life, understood and appraised it with this emotive attitude. In this way I merely wasted the precious moments of my Life.

At times the Light of the burning tapers of feelings and perceptions and at times the flickering lamps of emotions gave a daring, hard blow to my being. I kept flowing through every emotional state—there lay a lot, but I found only—the awareness of my helplessness, the experience of suffocation, the pain of despair, the fatigue caused by limits and restraints, the woe of servitude and an abhorrence of customs and conventions, of rites and rituals.

Being nurtured within me those moments which ever hinted at an Unknown direction and the whirlwind of my shortcomings sweeping away all omissions and commissions, began to vanish and Life began to perform its duty of displaying its identity. Gradually as the caravan of moments passed on, my awareness, too, deepened its tinge. My perceptions began to see all the changes taking place within two directions. I stood still in bewilderment and my interrupted steps advanced.

What am I thinking and what am I doing? I stood lost in this confusion, but my feelings and perceptions were gradually absorbed in Silence and my Silence began to lend a garb to these words and the garbs, too, merely touched the words and tended to convert my Life into a style—they began to turn words, too, into a style. My stagnant voiceless state watched that awareness which lay latent in this rare, unique conglomeration.

This Life is a business transaction of longings and desires, though I feel that if I see it through the window of the ego then it is the flow of actions. If I look upon it with the view-point of a doer, then Life is a mere thirst; if I watched it in my emotive state, it is a mystery—this Life, and if I use the mirror of my intellect, then Life is only Life.

Today, my Life is simply Life if I was to look at it with the untouched feeling of Life—the untouched feeling soaked in emotions and sentiments moistens my eyelids. The pilgrimage to this emotive state begins with the self and also ends with the self. It makes Life an invaluable pilgrimage. Whether we call it Life or self, it is an experience that binds the two together. It goes on scattering, as well as quietening my latent secrets, my every breath, every action, and every step brings into relief every emotive state which is only a stage in Life and tinges it with experience.

In fact, as I descend into the depth of the evanescent Time, I do not get any consciousness of any Life or something akin to it. Life, taking the shape of an illusion, makes the self stand in a voiceless, speechless state and then disappears. The Life, of which I ever craved to catch hold, and attachment, which ever remained fastened in my throat, doesn’t exist at all. Such a big delusion! Such a sweet dream! Today, I have lost even the craving for Death. All my feelings, passions, and mad stubbornness, the tears of anguish trickling from my eye of delusion—were it a mere dream? Was all a mere dream, fantasy?

Today, I was sitting in the cave of the word Life which seemed to have no margin. How should my being relate this ignorance of mine, painful as it is? What word should it employ, as every word has its limit, but Life is limitless? Then how might I express my Life? Sitting in the lap of Silence, I can only employ the quietness of my tears to mitigate this anguish. Still this cave is neither dark, nor dreadful; there is only unalloyed Silence enwrapped in a mysterious state. There is freedom standing in the ray of Light—which fearlessly roams about in the grotto of Life. There is, of course, an experience which, despite existing, makes no hint of its existence, which is wrapped up in the fold of feelings and perceptions—pointing at an untouched Life.

Suddenly, some one knocked at the opening of this grotto. I turned and saw a Beautiful sentiment clad in beggarly apparel—the fruit of a tree, planted fifteen years back. The taste of this fruit is my longing; the zest of this fruit is my liking.

Today, on the 27th of March 2005, I am caught in the grip of a severe pain. I lay in full consciousness, in full knowledge, in full depression of—pain. The screeching of my teeth, suffocation, and despair begin to adorn my Life; every feeling of pain begins to flutter within me. I identify myself with this pain because I experienced sensitivity up to its depth. My being denied this fact. Therefore because everything is going on, I see no reason in forbidding or preventing the pain.

My reaction is working itself out, one hundred percent ready to fight. Scheming at blackmailing, showering abuses—it is a part of my being. O God, the Unknown Creator, lends me awareness—let me think—all this is your doing. Whether you employ some bad means or good, please, keep me in my consciousness. Give me contentment and satiety whether I rise or fall. Make me so disposed that even if I come by dissatisfaction, I can look upon it as your gift or largess.

It is March 30, 2005, seven a.m. when a tender awareness thumped my feelings and perceptions. As I turned to it, I saw a puff of cool breath at the call of my emotions and sentiments exclaimed, “Wow! Wow!”
I closed my eyes and uttered with deep breath, “Wow! Wow!”
I closed my eyes as though my existence that had been burning for years had received a puff of cool breeze; the teardrops that had lain dormant for centuries in the cavities of my eye lids suddenly received a notice for their release.
Then my mendicant sensibility said—I have suffered a defeat again, today!
I lost! On hearing it my laughter that had been straying in the wilderness for centuries found an outlet. It took the shape of a ceaseless guffaw! The teardrop lurking in the cavity of my eye took this laughter in its lap.

Beggar: “You were to see this happening in quietness.”
Shaheer: “Why?”
Beggar: “What do you mean by why? It was only a happening.”
Shaheer: “Happening? Of whom?”
Beggar: “Of Life?”
Shaheer: “No. mine.”
Beggar: “Why?”
Shaheer: “For the feeling is mine.”
Beggar: “How?”
Shaheer: “It is the fruit of the tree I planted fifteen years back.”
Beggar: “It is right, but if you pass this Time in quietness you will have come by me.”
Shaheer: “Then what about the trace left behind?”
Beggar: “Time will have obliterated it.”
Shaheer: “Even today Time has obliterated something.”
Beggar: “What?”
Shaheer: “The end of my feeling—the fruit of my seed.”
Beggar: “True, you get rid of your feelings and passions, but do you know what you have lost?”
Shaheer: “Yes, I have lost you, but I do not regret.”
Beggar: “Why?”
Shaheer: “Because I have not temptation to obtain anything. I am eager only to gather and recover myself.”
Beggar: “You deny it. You did have a temptation, but why did you not find me? Had you found me, even then, all your actions would have to be rolled up.”
Shaheer: “No, not at all.”
Beggar: “Why?”
Shaheer: “For my being keeps roaming only on the emotive plane and not on the intellectual plane.”
Beggar: “Would you have lost something, if you had reached your destination thereby?”
Shaheer: “I am not so eager about the destination. I am interested in the journey by car, not by aeroplane, for it is a pleasure to visit and enjoy the sight of every place, to enjoy every moment and to enjoy myself. It is a pleasure in itself.”
Beggar: “What do you get thereby?”
Shaheer: “A draught of patience.”
Beggar: “Why? Yes, why so?”
Shaheer: “Because none can break the series of others’ impressions. One can only extend one’s helping hand, but it depends on the other party to accept or reject the helping hand.”
After that, I saw that lost opportunity which could lead me close to my destination. Today, as I stand in this cave, so satiated with experience, I again bring forth flowers and fruit, appertaining to the season.
My temperament, ever wandering on in quest of novelty, today, is going on its journey with faltering steps. It sees—
Life, especially personal Life, is a fruit; and my own feelings and passions are enjoying its taste. Thus Life’s fruit is—the pomegranate fruit, which contains countless grains in the shape of events and occurrences. My mendicant consciousness is extremely subtle and makes me enjoy the sight of an untouched, Unknown Life—in which, I feel moving about in thoughtless and dedicated moments.
The beggarly dress makes me perceive a corpse; I fear it. Nevertheless, the longing of inner feelings has only been for mendicancy. On this account I see that this corpse is my own—it is disfigured and distorted and in the state of putrefaction and decay! Today, I feel scared of my inner Silence—even of the company of the old tremor. Suddenly I get an inner hint, “Chant !”
Then I see—
A dreadful, dark cave in which stands my Life besieged with sins and crimes—it is they that are converting my body into a stinking corpse! However, even in that cave I feel the presence of that beggar or mendicant.
My corpse leads me through numerous happenings and takes me from door to door and, pausing in the midst of passing moments, explains in detail the account of events. I watch my every step, at times, in the right direction and some times in the wrong direction.
These events enter my present time and I then forget my Silence. The cry of laughter echoing through the earnest appeal of this forgetfulness tears asunder the clouds of impressions spread in my Life, where standing in the fresh, pleasant morning mendicancy presents the spectacle of showers of Silence falling into my feelings and perceptions.
My corpse strips my garment of five elements and these elements exhibit their nature and character through their virtues and vices. There also stands the account-book of my deeds and I look with surprise at what my mendicant spirit gives in detail as the account of my present state.
Mendicant Spirit:  “Shaheer, today you find yourself split up in three parts?” (Three parts mention in Chapter, Then What Is This?)
Shaheer:  “Yes!” 
Mendicant Spirit:  “Why? Where for?”
Shaheer:  “I feel there are three sentiments in me which go about.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Which three?”
Shaheer:  “Maternal affection for all, inner leap of rejoice, and a slavish mentality.” (The sense of confinement)
Mendicant Spirit:  “Do you know their meanings?”
Shaheer:  “Yes.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “What are they?”
Shaheer:  “The desire to becalm all. It is the outcome of my inner co-sharing habit: the inner sense of elation, the swaying feeling of lightness of Life, the release from imprisonment, and the longing to get rid of the feeling of me and mine.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Today? Are they also together?”
Shaheer:  “Perhaps not.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Why?”
Shaheer:  “I do not know.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “I know. May I tell?”
Shaheer:  “What is it?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “It is the positive step of your observance of Silence.”
Shaheer:  “How?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Which of the three is overwhelmingly heavy for you, today?”
Shaheer:  “Release from imprisonment.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Listen. There are other humans included in the other tendencies, but in the practice of Silence there is no possibility of others’ entry.”
Shaheer:  “I never knew it, I only thought of today, that Life is quietening me.”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Yes. It is Life that is quietening.”
Shaheer:  “Then who are you?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “A part of you.”
Shaheer:  “And I?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “A part of Life!”
Shaheer:  “And these happenings?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “The seeds of the happenings of your past Life, which turning into fruits, satisfy your Life.”
Shaheer:  “Then what can I do?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “This Life is very secretive and knotty; its every step shows a new direction.”
Shaheer:  “Then who unravels its knots?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Muteness. Yes, absolute Silence is the only solution of your present problem. Observe your Life in the state of muteness.”
Shaheer:  “Then why did I not observe Silence in this occurrence?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “You are closely linked to this event; you started reliving it in the past moments. You took responsibility for this occurrence on your own shoulders and so, did not observe Silence.”
Shaheer:  “Does it mean these emotions have a weakening effect on me?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “Yes.”
Shaheer:  “Did I fail?”
Mendicant Spirit:  “No. Every happening at this moment is above success or failure, it is its liquidity that makes it flow.”
With it I peep within where there is no sense of sadness, rather a flicker of a smile that breathes contentment. Today’s happening broke my Silence and when I slipped, I broke into a guffaw. My sense of mendicancy stands stretching its arms and tells me that this happening was a Beautiful window.
Today, though I broke my Silence, my achievement was quite good. Today’s happening only proved a largess—the largess which turns loss into profit, thirst becomes satiety—for today this Silence is my Life—my companion which has a ray of understanding as well.
Let any event happen, it will eat up the pomegranate fruit, quench my thirst, and roll up my satiety into the moments of tranquility.
Should I meet an individual, they will meet my Life, not me.
If today, some circumstances besiege me, it will be only to destroy the seed.
For—I cannot carry the load of my corpse, today, the consciousness of this pomegranate fruit opens the way for my riddance from feelings and passions.
Let there be any guide
Some individual or Nature
Life or the Creation
My individual self-adores today, every moment
Today, this corpse of mine turns into a rare Light in the unique moments of Life, where, despite my existence, I do not exist. This emotive state, which is spreading out, lends such a Light for the eyes as fosters our oneness with the Creation; it lends our ears that capacity which feels the Silence and therefore, impedes our steps so that it itself becomes the wayfarer.

This emotional state is the state that seeks riddance from itself. Until now this emotional state was my Life and my Life remained stagnant.
I wish to lead my Life without this emotional state!
I wish to do without this ego of mine!
I wish…

My mendicant spirit is peering from the cavity of my eyes and scattering smiles around; while my solid self is staggering in the rush of the traffic of my deep breaths. There is imploration in its seeing. I seek the company of Silence and my awareness glances, sometimes at the solid self and sometimes at the mendicancy.