I be a ZERO

I wonder why ZERO (0) has NO value of its own and yet used in our numerical system as a value.
I wonder of its relationship to my state of being (whether it is psychological self or the physical self)

Just like Zero, when Added or Subtracted from another number, looses itself to become that number (3+0= 3; 3-0= 3)
Same way, When I try to live in the other by taking on the other’s habits, following the other, become slave to the authority,
loose my way of thinking and living in the name of race/religion/country/Society, I loose myself into them, this may diminish me and I no longer exist except in the other, through the other

Just like when I multiply Zero with any other number, the other number dissolves into zero (3X0= 0)
Same way, when I try to manipulate the other by posing as an authority or guru or teacher, the other ceases to exist and becomes me, lives through me.
And when the other becomes me, there is only me and I cannot exist to me myself.

However when Zero, PAIRED with any other number, it not only retains its own value as ZERO, it also amplifies the total value (3 0 = 30 is greater than both 3 and 0)
Same way, when I be me and I let the other be them and when such individuals who are complete, pair up together, we create an experience
An experience that is amplified many times than any one of us

And in order for me to be me and let the other be other
I have to understand me, get rid of all the layers of comfort and security that I hide under and actually know the me I think is me
Not through the eyes of the other, or as the opposite of the other but only me

Because the other only exists to me as my perception. And my perception of the other is within me
For the other to exist, I have to exist first to perceive of the other, isn’t it?

So, maybe when I start to peel off the layers that is not me along with that which I think is me
I may come across that which is me, that which is the I that I claim as I
Not the word I, nor the qualities of the I
And maybe, I be the selfless self that neither has self or no self

Bloglovin

Perception of Love

Many times I define love, many times I deny everything other than love
I speak of the love as the only one, for I have none to match the one I call, the one.

I say to my girlfriend/wife that I love you but then, I dint even know you existed few months ago, few years ago, few decades ago
I say I never know what love is until I met you
Do I say that because I have defined love as the absence of love and now I define love as the absence of that absence of that which I defined myself as love
I wonder if that is love

A mother says to her son, I love you, but the mother doesn’t even know the son until she conceived the son/daughter, who was this son/daughter before then, where was the love before?
So, Is love that develops with progression of time, experience and memory?
Is love that comes and goes as I will and wish?, Is that Love?
Rather than condemn this thought, I must consider it!

Is it possible that I define and speak of love as if it is the very life itself, a life that contains all of this illusion of perception of this and that
So as to make me feel secure and keep my illusion of security and comfort going,
So I am intoxicated in this illusion of mine and never to wake up to question my perception of love?

Do I speak of love so I can keep a lock on love
Lock on all that speak of love?
Maybe this is why I don’t want you to change, nor question myself, for then, I don’t have to change because the you don’t have to change.
Maybe, this is why I am so attached to my labels of my race, my country, my religion etc. in my every act and in my every thought I think
May be this why I encourage you to speak of them as well, divide yourself from me as well so we can divide ourselves and I don’t have to change or give up that which I hold on to, cling on to
is this love?
If this is love, then I wonder if this is actually the attachment to the experience of the mind and the memory developed from that experience

When all else fails to satisfy my clinging, my dinging of what I hold on to, I say, love cannot be defined, it must be felt
Forgetting that I am still defining love by un-defining love, in feeling love.

When I cut open my skull, I see no thoughts of hate or love. I cut open my heart, I see no sign of love, so where is this so called love?

Maybe, rather than asking what is love, for that only shows the quality of love
I ask myself “why” do I feel certain way when I “think” of hate or when I “think” that I am in love or I am loved?
Where is this perception of mine coming from?, Is it from this body?, Is it from the others body? And when the other ceases to exist first in my thought, what is happens to love?

Will I then be able to understand/feel for myself, the actuality of that which is happening within me, the awareness of me that I call me
Maybe then, I can no longer hide behind the words or the illusion of my own perceptions and its security/comfort both mentally and physically.

And maybe then I am naked, “COMPLETELY” naked inside out.

Friend

Bloglovin

Truth & Life

Maybe “Truth”, “The Truth” is like water, it has no shape nor form and yet takes on the shape and form of the perception of the perceiver
Maybe this is what it means when I hear – “Truth will set me Free”.

Maybe it is the actual understanding, actual self realization, of this statement that the truth I perceive is the truth I created/accepted unto myself to fit into my mold, to satisfy my wants and desires at that point of time.
And since time is limited in its very nature, in its very quality,
Thus, the truth I created/accepted is always limited to fit the confinements of myself, the self that I made as mine, claimed as mine

So, when I claim to have the truth, I have my truth and not “The Truth”, for the truth I have is my perception, my filter of deception to myself and not “The Truth”

For example – when I go to the beach and hold water from the ocean in the palm of my hand and claim I have the ocean in the palm of my hand, do I really have the Ocean in the palm of my hand?

Such is the nature of every Ideology, every Practice, every Religion, every race, every boundary, every Separation, every division and every form/formless that claims to have the truth,
the way, or one way, or one of the ways of truth.

Each way, each truth is another perception, is another perceptive deception, but is neither the right way nor the very way itself, Including hate and the comfort of Love
For neither hate nor love is “The Truth”

And when I claim hate/fear is an illusion, “Love is all there is” – It is like holding water in the palm of my hand and claiming I have the ocean.

The healers, the dealers, the feelers, the kneelers, the hallucinators and the story tellers,
NONE, NONE has “The Truth”

For to claim the truth in any way or form/formless, is to separate the truth from the Truth and enclose it in a booth
A smoky booth filled with soot

Claims are blames
blames that aim at the flame
flame that is fueling the shame
shame that is the taming of the same name, same game
Same game in the name to rename,
rename to a different trade name, at a different place to play the different, yet the same game of fame

So I keep away from the claims, from the blames and from the names of the frames and of the fame

For Life is not a game nor of fame and both the game & the fame, are only smoke filled frames

Maybe Life is the very nature of the nature that is here to nurture the nature of the nurture

So I let Life arrive, to this hive, to be alive, to revive, and to thrive
For Life and every life has the right to THRIVE

Realize

Bloglovin

All Selves as My Self

When a Business man becomes a Service man
When a Farmer becomes a Father
When a Artist becomes an Enlightener rather than a Entertainer

When Flags become Rags
when Racial Separation becomes a Radical Union within my self
when Color becomes Colorless and Clueless
When Religion becomes a Legion of Love within me

When Division is no longer a Diversion
When Labels becomes a Babble
When Corporations become units of Compassion
And when I no longer want the other, thither me

Then, maybe then, I will see myself with an eye that has no division of I
Then, maybe then, I will BE the society that I wanted to see, I will be the experience I wanted to be
Then, maybe then, I will actually, myself and through myself, will see all selves
ONE SELF, Myself as all selves

For, myself is the self that sees the other self, through myself and within myself

Passport

Bloglovin

Body as my Thought

In my world full of bodies
Bodies full of thoughts, my thoughts full of bodies
And thoughts full of thoughts about the thoughts of bodies
How am I to know my thought and my body

I spend time looking at the bodies, craving for the bodies, to satisfy the body
Grooming my body to be of the perception of the thoughts of the bodies.

Bodies as memories, memories as thoughts creating my body, my thought and the resulting experience
Only to realize that the “You” come on your own terms, the you, leave on your own terms
And when I beg for you to come back and you mug me on your way back
How am I to know why am I a result of the body?

I wonder if I avoid my perception of the body, it will devoid my thought of the body
so I burn the bodies thinking that would turn my thought
only to realize that the thoughts I thought would turn, gave me more bodies to burn

So I sleep, sleep walk thinking I am awake
Thinking of awake from my sleep, I say to myself that I am awake for I can walk
Only to realize I am in sleep walk and sleep awake

No thought to think
No thing to do and no where to go
I am a slave to repetition
I tuition my mind to the repetition of abomination
Making Abomination as my true notion, as my nation

Seeking pleasure in pain and pain in pleasure
For the nectar of pain is sweeter than the emptiness
Sweeter than the no thing that I have to face

For my face has million masks to make me gasp every time I look in my own Cask
Maybe there will be a time, a moment in time to look at my time to realize that I have no time

For the You has everyone and the I have None
Maybe then, I wake up to clean up my makeup

Bloglovin

Why

The answer to every question is why
and the question to every answer is why
I speak not of “Why?” but I speak of “Why”
For this “Why?” is seeking/dependent on the answer from the other and this “why” is independent of the answer

When I live in why, fear in the why and love in the why
Maybe then I will be able to understand for myself,
the why that is questioning, the why that has the questions, the answers, the fear and the love

Maybe then, I may come across the why that is questioning the why
For in this why, I may find out the why behind the why that raised the why within the why

And in this why that raised the why, this why that is questioning the why, I may find out not an answer, to the why to the why, but a different kind of question
Rather than ending the question with an answer, I may come across the question to the question

Now maybe if I question the question that is questioning the question
I may come across the why, that is asking the why that is asking the why, that there is a why to the why to the why.

This may look like, I am trying to get to a point of origination of the why to my trained mind but it is not
So long as there is a point of origination, a root, then that root becomes my reference point, that becomes my perception, My filter, my new reality, my own confinement to find an answer within the other / a self, separate thought within the thought

For each reality I create with my perception is another illusion, for my perception is also an illusion and each illusion I create is my new reality, for my perception is my reality
For both reality and illusion are perceptions of the same mind, same thought

So now that I question the why that is questioning the why that is questioning the why, not to find an answer, not to do this or that and simply questioning why
I wonder of the state of that mind
I wonder of the state of that very thought

Bloglovin

My Sense as My Lens

The lens of my sense has silenced me to my own sense accepting the sense of the lens as my sense
With these lenses full of senses that are not even mine, I go around creating more lenses over senses creating new perceptions of my senses

With the new senses, I perceive the world with my senseless senses creating labels.
Labels with tables. Tables filled with my senses, tables filled with the rubble of my senses.
Not knowing the rubble I created on my tables and with these tables filled with Rubbles, I create bubbles, bubbles through which I can no longer see but live in fear to break open the bubble.

I bobble back and forth in the little bubble. The bubble “I” call life
Now I label the life called bubble as life itself, never understanding what life really is, but only perceiving life as I wanted it to be within my bubble
and I blame the nature for not being a nurture to me.

When I understand, actually understand that it is me who separated life into my own bubble filled with my rubble, I may understand my separation of life is not life, my division is not life
For where there is separation, there is always a control over one another, on each other.

Is controlling each other, manipulating one another to satisfy my own individual wants, wants made of rubble in my bubble called Life?
Not knowing that I don’t know, will I come to know about life, life beyond these lenses, senses beyond these lenses?

Bloglovin