My’s I life

My, defining the I
I, confining within the My of the I

My, as a memory, living through the memories story
Repeating, reiterating and rejuvenating through this memory
Memory as my dictator, I am just an actor, a rag doll, a puppet in the hands of this memory

Reliving through this My, my very existence has become dependent on this My
Existence as my persistence, my abstinence from everything else
Confining, confiding and enslaved to my memories, I have become the very definition of memory

Clinging to the past, the characters of the past, I have become the very character of the past’s mast (my race, my religion, my country, my culture, my this and my that)
Past’s comfort as my predefined path, I shadow my present with my past
The idea of hate, the idea of love as my dove stringed to the memory of the past, I have caged, aged and staged a different version of the same past

Each idea as the extension of my past, a detention through the past, I am just a pretension of the past in the present
Game and my name, I have no shame to play the blame game
Looking for the same old fame, I invite the players to build up the layers for another game

Wearing the glasses of the game, not understanding the nature of my own imprisonment in the name of the game, I seek out those who wants to play, who wants to lay and who wants to quay my play
Caught in the tides of this play, the only way feel loved, feel nourished is by the game

Gamer’s, scammers and shamer’s looking for another gamer, another scammer and another shamer to justify my way of existence through the validation of another’s existence, feeding, needing, clinging on and creating more of the same to seek comfort, to not have to look at me nor change me, to sleep through life enslaving myself and every other life form I come across

Focused on my dreams, dreams as a result of my past and habituated mechanistic ideas that are inherited, I forget the one who is sleeping and keep dreaming within this sleep of mine

This I call LIFE.
And when there are no escape routes, I see comfort in another idea, in another new scape, that this is all hallucination, just an illusion, just another justification to avoid, to actually look at myself

Life is not in the lie of Life or in the inherited image of life
Life may be in the fullest expression of myself, so I can look at myself, become aware of the self I call myself
Like Truth, life is not predefined and that which is lived upto is just another lie

Life is not in the rules, not in the procedures and certainly not in the bait of the habituated mind defined by the My and the I of the MY
Life is in Communion with life
For, Life is its own life.

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Escape to a New Scape

Some wants to Escape, Some wants a New Scape
Some wants to Escape the New Scape, some wants a New Scape to Escape
For some wants a scape that is a cape to cope with the escape

In name of hate, in the name of fate
In the name of the love, in the name of the dove
I play the same game, again and again for the same gain
I say the same name, again and again for the same pain
Wanting the same thing again and again to cling on
For repetition has become my petition and my repetitive petition has become my imagination
Imagination breathing through the respiration of precipitation of the anticipation, anticipation to escape

With my hand full of experiences
Mind full of memories
I live in the thoughts with knots and not’s
For I am caught in the knot and I fight the not

My fight has become my flight
My night has become my light
And In the name of light, I take my flight
and in the name of flight I hide behind the might
Filled with might and the imagination of light, I lost my sight
For my sight has been blinded by the darkness & brightness of the light alike

Thinking this is light, I escape to another scape
A scape formed from my own memory to commemorate my memory of my repetitive imagination of the same name and the same game, Same gain and the same pain
Which I label my life
For I know of no life.

Anticipate

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Meditation

Meditation as my medication
Another form of intoxication, another form of hallucigenic dictation, to escape into an imagination
to create a new scape, a new cape to gape
I take shape to reshape the same shape

Meditation as a repetitive mechanistic idea
Meditation as a habit, as a practice
I become a babbit to that practiced habit

I may Ace my face in this habit and hop around like a rabbit as I inhibit the persona of the exhibit
For now I have become an exhibit, a inhibit to my very self
To prohibit myself, to come out of my shelf

For Mediation when practiced as a habit, as a repetitive idea, whether attached to my current habit, or developed as a new habit, will just be another habit
Another habit that will eventually loose its luster as soon as the pleasure of the new habit has faded, for that very idea of habit is jaded
For all I am trying to do is to fulfill my desire to achieve something (the quality of the desire might differ but still there is a want, even if it is a want of no want, no desire)

Mediation practiced as a space, as a place to hide away for a few min or few hours or as a place to mind the mind, “control” the mind
replace the current images of the mind, occupy the mind with a different imagination to experience some form of my perception of ecstasy/bliss, a place to go away, a space to escape from my daily life,
My daily life that is not serving my pleasures and wants of the pleasures and wants of the mind born out of pleasures and wants will just be that –
A framed, a confined, however refined it is, still a confined “hallucination” that the mind will eventually get used to
which inturn will no longer serve my wants to fulfill my wants of peace/bliss/love/ecstasy etc.

For now, the practice of one meditation is no longer serving me, I will start swinging between this type of mediation and that type of mediation, never understanding my want, my desire to meditate in the first place, to “escape” in the first place.

And meditations of this type, any type, will be like this to me – Before meditation I am digging my hole with a shovel and when I have gotten into habit, into the practice of meditation, I will dig my hole with a bulldozer.

Maybe when I actually see this, actually realize this nature of the practice, nature of all these well known mediations, nature of my own minds habit, will I still go after developing and attaching more habits to my already habituated mind, my practiced mind, filling/replacing more of the refined confinements?

Or will meditation be something entirely different for me?, as a space to become completely “Aware” of every single thought that is happening within me, questioning the nature of every thought and the very thought itself, and the self I call myself that is thinking of these thoughts?

Maybe then I will Question, Question the Question, Question the Question that is questioning the question?

I wonder, What would such a mind of mine be then?

Will I then become aware, totally aware with utmost attention, not focus but “complete attention”, complete responsibility to my every thought that may bring upon a different change within me, that may take me beyond habit, beyond practice, beyond every form of meditation out there?

Then, maybe then, will I still need to confine my mind, my thoughts for few min, few hours of this and that silly medications?

For now, maybe now, every thought, every second and every part of my life and the very life itself is a meditation in itself, a meditation of “Awareness”, A meditation of “examination”.

A meditation of wonder, wondering the wonder that is wondering of the wonder to wonder of wonder with no wonder to wonder wonder
Maybe …..

Focused Inhabit Portion
Tend

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