Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 22

The Surrender: The only Road to the Suspension of Self

Hello Everyone,



How are you? I have (somehow) managed to take out time these days (whoever studied for English?) and got back to who I am. As in, blogging, and writing, and preaching, and selling faith. Actually, everyone sells something for some price, I sell my ideas at the cost of peace. I mean, I feel peaceful after letting my mind be see through.

I'm going to tell you all something very very weird. I was supposed to be dead by September 23, 2009. It is on that day when I got so tired of life that I had slit myself a little too deep. Yes, I was an emo kid, I used to wear black, I used to hate life, I used to hate living, I used to run away from everyone who loved me. I was an emo kid. Rather, a Gothic kid. A typically furstrated emokid. Anyway, I was supposed to be dead on that fateful day. I had almost died on that day. I had slit my vein so deep.

Why did you do that? I can hear you say.

I couldn't live with myself. The reason what everyone has to take such a step. Now this might seem quite like a paradox. But it is true. I mean, once in our life time we start to acknowledge the existence of this self, and we need to eliminate this prospective. At that time, I didn't know the difference between the I and the self. But when I had taken that step, I felt like I had fallen into a deeper hell. My loved ones trying to save me in some way or the other they intended to help. In that timeline when I was (supposedly) dying, I asked me the reason and had given the same answer, "I can't live with myself." But if I couldn't live with myself, that means there are two of me. But since I'm always addressed as a "one-piece", it's only one of them who's real.

Then I was gripped violently by this realisation, as if I have been taken by storm within me to a sacred place where I was being healed. I mean, I'm not aware what was going physically around me (my wounds were rather medically healed) but I am aware of whatever had been through my mind. By a sudden violent, but careful force I had been absorbed into a vortex leading to the void. I embraced light. I had an awe in my eyes. Seldom do people regain the innocence they lose in their life time, I had regained it at the right time. I saw the world like I have been here for the first time. I used to cling to my mother as if I'm a newborn. I never acknowledged the value of this woman in my life. I paid attention to each and everyword I heard, as if I'm just getting the meaning. I had started my life from a rather basic age again.

And that was it. I had started the process of elimination of self.

Now, how do I recognise the self?

It's a quite easy process actually. The self has worldly knowledge. A child is innocence only to the age of 5 (and this age is ceasing day by day, I fear). Then from 5, the process of schooling (something I totally sympathise about this modern age of Kalyuga) starts. We see friends (newly), teachers, homeworks and this self sprouts as a zygote, a nebula,  an embryo. This self begins from childhood, wanting to be something, to come to notice, to get a star, to learn counting, to learning alphabets, to winning in a race, to showing a certificate to mum and getting words of appreciation.

Then comes the prepubersent age of 12-13. The self becomes obsessive. Wanting to be a rebel in the eyes of other, wanting to do something different, wanting to stand out, wanting to see impossible dreams, fighting for subjects, arguing with parents, complaining about the system, suggesting the changes (which cannont be made).

When adulthood comes, this self wants a house, a car, a life, an identity and serves tooth and nail to have an idea of "class" (the self has been around to realise what it means to be in it). The self works day and night to earn an idea. This self gets married, has kids and then goes on  working hard for a "future" (which is actually beyond a human effort).

Finally when this self has retired and when we're left with the induvidual (the I) we realise that it's too late, or I am nothing. Many have realised that there was no point in being a cog in the wheel.

(Note: I am NOT saying to go to the Himalayas, be nude, make love or do drugs.)

I went to realise the self a little before the age came (thankfully) and set out to eliminate myself.
So, I sent out some men to fight,
And one came back at dead of night
Said he'd seen my enemy
Said he looked just like me
So I set out to cut myself,
And here I go...
No, not my words. But a basic introduction to fight the self. This self has expectations. I'm not saying that the self is doing wrong. The self is right but what do you think?

What do you mean what I think? I mean, it's a paradox!

Okay, do you have control of your brain? I mean surely, it's your brain that has control over you. Now this might again be a paradox, But it's your brain having a control over you! If it's impossible to believe, let's just have a test. Can you stop thinking? No, you obviously can't! I mean, maybe for a moment or so, but not completely. You can't surrender yourself to the moment. Even if you are silent, the mind is continuously thinking and if someone asks, "what are you thinking?" This self intentionally suspends the thought, knowing that the expression will bring out the induvidual and suspends it by saying, "nothing" or something that the person would want to hear (or a self assumption).

The Suspension of self. A thousand yogis, a dozens Paolo Coelho-s, a hudred Eckhart Tolle-s, countless spiritual leaders (including my personal favourites- Budhha, Osho and Rumi) have taught us to overcome the self in their own ways and we follow their ways but we fail to realise that the induvidual is prime. The induvidual is pristine. It's an innocent child. The induvidual has the capability to eliminate the self, but no two induviduals can counter the self in the same way. (The exact reason to why two astral travels are never alike). We need to work on our own path.

We buy a particular book, read a particular article, keep track of a particular blog to keep the "self" fulfilled that the induvidual is satisfied with this outlook of the world being presented, but the induvidual never got a chance to grow beyond 5. The induvidual needs to be brought out of it's cavern of solace. The induvidual needs to draw out that final sword in it's enemy, to cut out it's self.

The other day I was talking to a friend and the same ranting continued, "dude, I can't score marks."

"Leave that be, what would you do of marks anyway? We only need to get through this class. For a college, there's always the ol' faithful board."

"But my parents have expectations."

"And what about you?"

"Me too, obviously!"

"Then why did you highlight your parents' before your own?"

My friend is silent. I go a step further asking,

"Moreover, why do you expect?"

"Because I have the caliber."

"Then why didn't it come out by now?"

My friend doesn't like this attack. The ego of this self has been hurt. Now, here's the best way to identify this self: the induvidual has a rage; the self has an anger, the induvidual has a sexuality; the self has a perversion, the induvidual can't even cross the road without being awestruck and appreciating the miracle of life; the self won't mind stepping on a bug or two...

I can't really help people in the process of fighting with the self. This is something that only they can do. I can only be Pester John's mirror, reflecting upon them. At the end of it what I have to say is, don't be this or that or any of your rants. Just be. The process of being is the prime supremacy, the surrender, the suspension of self followed by an even longer and harder process of elimination. At the and of it, you will realise that it's not "I am with me" or "I am for me". It is that "I am." No trail of dots, no trail of thoughts and no absurd words, I am.

Peace out!

-Neetzi

P.S. Desperately wanting to do a crazy experiment with the blog, could use suggestions.

Sunday, January 16

Death: A Dear Friend

A very morbid title. Isn't it? Nay, not so.

 By the way, Hello Everyone! Hope that I've reached you all in good health and good time. I don't have much free time these days, and definitely no time to mourn, my life these days is a total celebration, full of jive, color, love and music. No time to look at all that makes me sad but then again it's the perfection of thought that is imperfect, and that brought me to this simple communicating device.


A Very Romantic Death
 About death, really the thought isn't frightening. What are we going towards? Why are we aging? What is closing to our ends? It's the same dear friend that has followed us time and time again, warning to touch us at a certain time, till when we are alive. But nothing lasts forever, why is it so frightening to feel something so real after which there will be no feeling left?

I somehow tend to talk openly about the topic of death, and hence, am taken to be a depressionist. But that's rather a realist statement. Nothing is so real and so true as death for it is destined to meet us in a good time and at a good day. There's nothing depressing about it. Nothing is so fearful as death because that's the basis for every fear is death itself. For example, fear of dark prevails as there might be death closing by anytime unaware, the fear of thunder because you never know where it might strike. So like death itself. But the angel of death is our everyday companion. Even when a stranger has assured no harm, the fear of death always remains to be and the fictious world of reality seems to be dreamier than a dream.


Many a times we complain how nothing is going right in our lives. But yet we are too frightened when death shows it's presence. No matter nothing may be right in out lives, our love for life is just as great as our complains from it. We want to rise time and time again to a bliss that we still exist. No person, no matter how much of a daredevil remains so after they have felt that the hand of death lies nearer than the cellphones in their pockets.

Is there a life after death? But then again, is there a life before death?

Many mythologies (Aryan, Egyptian, Greek, Babylonian) talk about a life after death. The Egyptians left the riches as they might come in handy in the life after death. Some others talk about a cycle of life and death going hand in hand. We are born the moment we died. And hence in this life, we only survive.

The angel of death roams behind us in the loneliest of our times, it's hand intervening with that of God, possessing our time, all that is there and all that is not. Leaving little to imagination, it isn't cruel or brutal, it is just doing it's job. It is ensuring that we live each and everymoment as it comes. The only music in my life yet is a lecture and the colors come from the covers of textbooks. But I celebrate each moment as it comes. Smiling and thanking God for each breathe I take. I don't leave the few joys to be done till tomorrow: apologising if I have offended anyone, accepting a grace, giving a smile, thanking anyone to whom I am to say so...



I belive that thanks to the fact that there is a death, I live and love my life as it comes. Now as I risk the fact of choking on the delicious food put up in front of me (by the grace of my dear mother) I bid farewell to everyone. Much love!
Peace out!
-Neetz

Saturday, January 8

Rumi and the true Story of Faith

Hell-low under again Folks!

The DisplacedFrequency's been going under duck-loads of displacements off-lately and less time to post, (dear readers, don't take it as I'm DEAD!) and have also been unactive for past two months. Reason? Well the rest of November went with my Ma's birthday, my own stuff, the month of December went in tests and the month of January went in celebrating New Year BUT... January ain't gone as the displaced frequency's born to a new life. Hey, that's why I'm so awesom to ya folks. ;)

Jalal-ud-din Rumi and the mystics
 Jalal-ud-din Rumi's my favourite mystic of all times (along with Bulleh Shah, Waris Shah and Osho). Now why do I like his poetry? Clear as crystal, it's nor far fetched, it's sufi, it brings a person a step closer to his/ her own heart and it really doesn't need a language to be spoken out. The words of Rumi are the words of our own. The only language Rumi ever spoke wasn't Persian or Arabic, rather, it was the language of love. Rumi taught us the Passion to Live.

I don't know whatever brought me to read him, well it just did, I just read him. As a personality, I endorse the fact that there's a God. I believe that there's a destiny. I believe that Life is. No, it ain't a struggle or a celebration, it just is. And that's the clearest thing Rumi taught us. God is. Love is. Rumi and his words are eternal and have lived through the ages. Even in this world of race between a heart beating and a system procession, Rumi's words can melt  silicon.

There are many incidents, stories to "why" did Rumi ever start writing. One of them's my favourite version, the one I am to narrate:-
 Rumi became a scholar and a mystic came to him when he was sitting with his pupils and his books by the side of a pond. The mystic threw all his books in the pond and transformed Rumi's soul. Spiritually, the process of transformation includes exchange of spirits between two bodies. No, that LITTERALLY ain't the thing that you might be thinking. Transformation means that when there's a true connection of the soul. When you've crossed all the borders and boudaries and reached a stage where noone needs words to talk. But when his mystic friend died Rumi became hysteric and spun for ages and poetry bled out of him (Litterally, that's a mental illness. eg, Schizophrenia is always described as the world dissolving, and the poetry bleeding is obviously the poetry being recited by a "madman").

The first verse I ever ready by Rumi was:-
Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, idolater, worshiper of fire,
Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times,
Come, and come yet again.
Ours is not a caravan of despair
And it's in this first meeting that Rumi took me with him by surprise. It's clear as crystal and easy to understand. Rumi is who we are. In fact, Rumi is the originator of that spinning sufi dance (the stage of his hysteria, he spun for an eternal age).

These stories about God, about those who had faith, might seem weird and far fetched. For example, when Bulleh Shah was a child, his mother told him, "if you pray, God will give you jaggery." And the lad prayed for the sake of jaggery. But when his mother died, the whole town knew that it was to be the day he was going to lose his faith.That day, after he was done praying, the entire room was filled with jaggery... Wierd as it might seem, but Faith is. Nothing you can do to help it. It might be there, it might not be there but it just is. Were words enough, to be there we wouldn't really need eyes to see and hands to feel. All the broken hearted and all the open wounds need some faith, sometimes a little more than medicine to heal. In fact, that's why I write mostly spiritual that there would be at least someone who'd read it and think about it, reflect upon his/her own life, and choose life time and time again. There's no point in sufering with our own self. Let's all spend a moment to take a deep breath and rejoice over existence and all that Rumi taught us. In his own words:-

I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels bless'd; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence
Proclaims in organ tones,
To Him we shall return
I have been an atheist, I have been a disbeliever, I have been a satanist, and then I met God. His path is the simplest to follow, and the easiest to believe (that's why people find it hard). I am not eternal, but I am. To me, my faith is my headstone and my destiny is my smile. I fell in love with life all over again, and now as I write this, I thank ALL those who have ever read at least one post of this blog to give my words a tinch of importance. I think it's destiny that brought us down to this bottom line that we are connected by this little proof of existence. Thankyou all, really it means a lot to me. =)

Peace out!

-Neetzi

Saturday, August 14

Reasons to lose Faith

Many of us are leading lives forcefully as if we have no will to live. And of course, this is how one leads life. Without faith, without hope and without a will. A silent dark life, with no existence, no reason and no meaning. That’s what life becomes after some time after you get used to being alive. As for someone who has lost faith, life isn’t a term lively enough.

I am not an atheist, but I don’t believe in a “God”. I believe that the world is based on a mechanism. That’s it. That mechanism needs to be acknowledged in order to learn of existence. That’s all about my spiritual view. The idea of a personal God breeds more hatred than love. I don’t like religion. It causes manipulation of the minds and divides humanity.

Yes, I do put on a rudraksha and a gold ring with topaz. But that’s only to humor my mother, who is a strict believer of the term “religion” that I so detest. I most certainly, do NOT endorse such an act of stupidity, and one has the complete right to sanity. Religion is nothing but losing faith in oneself. It is half knowledge which is completely empty. The existence of most is limited to this nothingness. Praying for a better tomorrow. Well, what’d you do of tomorrow if there’s no life today?

I remember having prayed to sleep a sleep and never to wake up. But since, I don’t see my peace nearing, I’d rather lose faith in that prayer. My life, I don’t find it worth living. And why should it be? For living one needs a companion, an understanding and a hope. I have companion(s); i.e., family and friends; but no hope, and no understanding. Many a times when I say something, I have to interpret it in 15 different ways, only to be failed in conveying what I really need. How can I say what I want if I can’t make it clear what I need?

Now after reading this, people would feel that I am only under the pressure of life, a.k.a. depression (which, to assure I am not, as, depression is sadness, but I am most certainly not sad) or hallucinated (which indeed I am not, because I do not have any medium for that). Look, all I am trying to say is, losing faith, or not believing, or not wanting to be present are not crimes or “sins”. We all have a right to thought and a right to express it and not be preached. I know sooner or later atheists become agnostics, and agnostics retain faith. But for the time being, it’s best to let things be the way they are. Who knows? It could be for the better if not for worse. It’s better to be reborn a new self in a dead life rather than being pumped into false leads.

What else am I to say? My country has given it in it's constitution the freedom to practice, preach and follow any religion of choice. Then why do wars happen in name of religion? Why the unrest, the riots, the hatered, the enemosity? My best friend, she's a palestiniam mouslem. My family's a sanatan hindu. I am proud to say that she's an elder sister to me. I love her as a family. We don't even share the same language. But love doesn't speak a language, nor follows a religion, and nor is limited to a boundary. And nor is freedom. This Independence day of India (August 15), yours truly, a.k.a., me, plan to spend with my grandparents, read some poetry and study.

DID YOU KNOW:
Saare jahaan se achha Hindustan hamaara (Our India better than rest of the world) was written by a Pakistani mouslem?

Peace

-Neetzi