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

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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

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Memory as Life

From the unknown to known, I get to know the “You”
From the known, I fight for the you, I take flight with the you, making the you, an image of the You within me, making the me

I fight for the You to keep our memories alive, my memories alive
I come back again and again and again from the unknown to the known to make one more memory of you, with the you, for another dance with the you, a dance of me and you through me

Like a bee that searches for honey, I search for memories with the you, to make memories with you
Memories so sweet, sweeter than the sweetest nectar
Just like a bee that builds a hive to store all its honey
I build walls around my memories to store the memories of the you

In the memory I live, for the memory I am alive
In the memory I think, for the memory I drink
In the memory I blink, for the memory I ink
For another memory, I link

My mind loaded with so many memories of the you and the me, I go on creating more memories of me and you, to hold you, to feel you, to get to know you, so I can hold on to the memory of the you.

But,
The harder I try to hold on to you, the smoother you slip through
The slower I lift you towards me, the faster you slip through
Only to show me that I too one day have to slip through my own fingers, through my own memories back into the ocean, to the unknown

Just like the water is no water to the ocean and the ocean is no ocean to water
For the memory has no memory to itself, to hold on to itself

So will I live in my memories making memories from memories, will I live in my memory of my memories?
I wonder…..
I wonder of life with no memory of life.

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Thought, Knot & Not

A thought is only a thought with no act to the thought
But when a thought becomes an act, the act has its own thought to influence the thought and thus another act, another thought
For the act involves the others act of the others thought

With two acts creating two thoughts influencing the thought, creates a new act of the thought which I never thought I would act
May be such is the nature of the thought

I wonder if there is such a thought as a primordial thought, a fundamental thought
For the thought of the act and the thought from the act is the very act itself creating another thought, another act

I wonder where this thought comes from
Only to realize that the thought of the thought is another thought transforming the thought

With no thought to thought and the very thought to thought
I make up the thought
I wake up the thought
I rake up the thought
And I speak of the thought
For the thought of I and I of the thought to the thought has no thought to think of the thought

So I look not for the face
For the face is a trace of the mask of the eye
The eye that has dyed itself to another eye, another I, another thought

I Look not for the space of the thought nor the pace of the thought
For both the space and the pace is another thought hiding behind the thought

I Look not for the quality of the thought
For the quality has no equality and is only of a locality that makes up its own actuality but not the reality

Just like, seasons may come, seasons may go
reasons may come, reasons may go
For the season has no reason for treason to another season

Same way, thoughts may come, thoughts may go
For the thought that is sought, is the one that becomes a KNOT and a NOT

Trace

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Freedom from Self

To be FREE, is to be free from the self
To be Free from the self, is to need no self
To need no self is to heed no self

To heed no self is to need no shelf
To need no shelf is to claim no self

No self as myself and no shelf as my shelf
For every self, is another hail for help
Hail for help from the self i call my self

With no self to call my self as myself, i may come upon that which is no self
And when i come upon that which is no self, there is neither the I to know that which is nor that which is, to the I
Here, may be here, no where near here, i may come across that which is different, entirely different

For everything i write of the unknown is a lie
Every word i speak of the unknown is a lie
And every thought i think of the unknown is a lie

For i may use words to silence the words
Thoughts to silence the thoughts
And never that which is neither, for each other is another tether to one another

When i realize that there is no other
When i actualize with no other
When i materialize with none another

Maybe then, i may come across that which is the absence of another, absence of another in its totality, in its entirety, in every possible eternity
With no other for another, here i wonder……

Wonder

When I loose wonder
I plunder
I become a blunder

I may think I am a thunder
But only that much more dumber
For I have no wonder

I wonder
what the trees are talking to each other
What the birds are singing, singing to each other

I wonder
what the ocean is saying to the waves
What the waves are saying to the sand on which they dance

I wonder
what and who the mighty mountains talk to
what the rivers & the streams think of the earth they flow on

I wonder
what the flower thinks of its fragrance
the fire of the wood its is burning on
the wind on which it blows

I wonder, for in wonder
I have no need to change anything, no need to change the world
But only to wonder, only to love, only to listen

So when I love and wonder, what will I change in the world, the world that has become a wonder
I will only change the change of love and the love of change in wonder
Only to wonder

I wonder….

Mighty

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Awareness

Can I live in the AWARENESS of yesterday and in the WONDER of today?
I wonder what kind of experience will that be?

I ask this question NOT to compare it with quotes like
“Stop and smell the roses” or “Live in the present moment” and then conclude that it means this or that.

But actually find out for myself
what is living in “awareness of yesterday/past experience” and
what is living in the “memory of the yesterday/past” experience really mean.
Is there a difference between Awareness and Memory?

Does “Awareness” mean that so and so exist and I know it does?
For example – I am aware that I have a body called human body.

Does “memory” mean that I had an experience and I know the “result of the experience”, so I “choose” to have the same experience again or not, but most certainly I know what the end result is, isn’t it?

Most times, I find myself living in the memories of my past experiences or in the memories of others experiences (family/friends/society etc etc) creating traditions, conditions etc
But what if I change my mind consciously to live in the “AWARENESS” of the past experiences?

Now that I am living in the awareness of yesterday and don’t know if the present experience will be a bad or good experience.
Can I simply wonder what the experience will be, simply experiencing the experience but yet aware?

What kind of life/experience will my life/experience be when the “AWARNESS MEETS WONDER” every second, every single thought of mine?

so, can I live in the “AWARENESS of yesterday and in the WONDER of Today”?

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