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.

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

Fact

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