Always coming

 I feel it is there. Ever approaching. Slowly. Yet, nobody speaks about it. Always in whispers, or, on occasions when it has come and everyone is circling around a dead one like watching a prey in a cage!

It's been around three weeks since he died. A mentor to me, someone whom I could rely on. There are days when I end up not wondering about him. Then there are days. 

When I had seen him lying strapped to the bed with contraptions as his armor, his beard, mottled with grey and coffee brown, smiled at me. I tried to steady my breathing, taking in snatching of coolness in the air. But this was not the tender air of the untamed world - the untrue definition of fresh air.

His daughter's whole world turned upside down - her vocal cords went so slack that she couldn't even groan. Strange how you picture these things sometimes - seeing things from the outside. 

His life had cartwheeled to a gully with an end.  

I could see and feel something. My eyes definitely did - widening, expecting it to vanish in a blink. Something not from this realm. Something not meant for the human eye. I rubbed the stinging gash of the vision listening as the rain began to fill the gap between my reality and shock. The rain was different. Chaotic. It was like a selfish, indiscriminate creature.  Nature had pulled out the fiercest arrow from its quiver. It's as if the sky was coughing out sick gouts of sadness and gloom.  

I walk away knowing the end is nowhere in sight, yet it is always coming. 

Hello, I am Golden!

'Attention, please! Red, yellow and blue are invited to the canvas.' 

For a moment, after this announcement, Golden, Prussian, Ultramarine, Vermillion, Carmine, and Lemon were unable to speak or move. Mr. Wide Brush picked up some water, splashed it, and gave a loud yell. The water drizzled like rain on A's head. Vermillion smiled at Carmine. Ultra kissed Prussian. Lemon and Golden shook hands. 

Do we have the lustre of living? both reds asked. 

Oh yes, absolutely.  Did you know, on an island of Hawai'i, when a rainbow was seen in the sky, indigenous folks announced that a divine presence was near and it was a sign of "heavenly footsteps" coming to light on the earth, said a thin, pleasant voice.

They wondered who between Lemon and Golden spoke. 

Hello, I am Golden. A sweet, musical voice was heard. 

Canvas was listening to their conversation. He knew, soon, there will be a melee. He was waiting for it.

The dance began. First, came Carmine.

I am known to relax. I bring an element of equilibrium between two opposing dynamic forces!

Canvas remained fluid and did not want to interfere with the way Carmine had come alive. 

Golden meets Carmine and their association is nothing short of divine. 

Everyone is fascinated by observing their transparencies and feels awakened in their inner lives.

P.S. This was an attempt to understand the quality of colors as stated by Goethe and Steiner. Both of them are monumentally challenging, and it is not a case of simply taking a helicopter perspective to see the whole picture. Far from it. The philosopher in me gets stoked by these indications. 

Color is a bridge between our inner soul life and the outer physical world...it is the soul of nature and when we experience color we participate in this soul - R.S.

The lonely leaf

 There is a plant, a Ceylon spinach plant, right outside the window.  It wears hues of green. Many leaves grow on the stem, some on the right-hand side, some on the left, creating a pattern, an intentioned design. 

This is the plant I observed for twenty-one days. Each of those twenty-one days, I met the plant as if I am meeting someone for the first time. Our meetings were intriguing, rich, eye-opening, and more than anything else, they were lessons in objectivity. 

I could feel and clearly see life forces, growth forces, and death forces working upon the plant. On the leaves, the stems, nodes, and even the soil. The weather outside and the weather within me did not make a particle of difference in our meetings. I remember one foggy morning, the tiniest leaf of the plant was a thing of absolute beauty. Each thin vein on the leaf was decorated with dozens of tiny beads of water. It glistened in the light and made a pattern of simplicity and mystery like a delicate cloud lodged right spang in the sky. I watched. I watched it again. Tiny beads of water inched away, slowly trying to join the next one. 

When I had begun the exercise, I thought, the leaf is lonely. It wasn't. Those dozens of water droplets inched away with mirth leaving the leaf blushing. 

I sing like the thrush

when they brush 

hush..hush..hush

I don't want to wake up the thrush

let them brush

in hush..hush..hush

 

Lucid dream

 It was around 3 am. The characters from my dream had tumbled out inconspicuously. Little did I realize that they were as real as the paintbrush outside my window. 

A huge paintbrush hurls itself into space, lets out a dragline as it goes down. One of the characters, a tall man, blunders into the lower part of the brush and gets tangled in the wet bristles. He flails his arms furiously trying to break loose and free himself.

I was completely gobsmacked at this man for being caught like this. And I wasn't the only one. The fat woman, the thin girl, the chubby boy and the black dog joined me in my astonishment. Hardly anybody in the room had a nice word to say for this man. The fat woman hated him. The thin girl detested him. The chubby boy loathed him. And the black dog complained loudly.

The light outside had turned into a midnight blue. I was wide awake. The light had illuminated my dream.

P.S. I don't know what happened next. Except, the alarm looked black and I was awake, again!    

  

Awakening of the Third Eye

 When I heard about the pineal gland and how it helps in connecting to the higher self. I was fascinated. Of course, I did not know much about it. 

So what is the pineal gland and why is it called the Third Eye.

Some medical scientists say it is a pea-sized gland shaped like a pine cone, located in the vertebrate brain near the hypothalamus and pituitary gland. In the pineal gland, melatonia is released that raises and lowers the body's hormone level to build circadian rhythms (day and night rhythms).

Now, when I researched I found that it's a revered tool of seers and mystics and is considered to be the organ of supreme universal connection. Rene Descartes packs the soul, like a parachute, into the pineal gland. Rudolf Steiner claims that the pineal gland and its functions are what myths of the Holy Grail symbolize. 

With this new found knowledge, my pineal gland is definitely active, circadian rhythms are in place, the nocturnal adventures find themselves in lucid dreaming, the dawn is fresh and fills up the day with concentration. It is also a way to connect with Divinity and attract what one wants in life: mental clarity, improved concentration, clear self-expression, strengthened intuition, a sense of bliss, insight and decisiveness. 

P.S. This post has been brewing in my soul for a while. It was time for it to reveal.