What is conversation? What is it that people communicate when they converse? Is it that their entire personalities are being laid bare in an instant of recollection or introspection. If it were, would conversation would be akin to meditation?
All the knowledge of the world exists within me. There is nothing that I can learn from the future or erase of the past. I was there then, I'm here now and I shall always be. All that I learn is nothing but a return to something that I had within me but was not in my consciousness. I look to a teacher, a guide, a mentor in my life and I learn from the wise words they say, and I feel I'm progressing along the path I choose for myself. But am I to know what I am really looking for if I follow someone else when I know that all I need is within me? I need to listen, to myself.. to introspect and to re-learn.
In my earlier posts also, I can see the glimpses of this idea that is occupying me now. The same voice that now tells me that I pervade all of eternity and am all, has been speaking the same to me for a long time. It was what made me rethink my stand on communism, to revert to Alice in Wonderland for that sheer pleasure that comes from being a child without any shackles of conditioning or shortcuts of 'reality'
A good friend of mine recently had a status message on gtalk, "Reality is frequently inaccurate". Profound, it appeared to me then. Reality is the sampled, filtered and weighted result of the inputs of our sensory perceptions. (There must be more to it than the senses of smell, touch, hearing and vision.. but I cannot put my finger on what that is.) Reality is the oldest, most absorbing, and most uniquely customized interactive show ever known to man (or beast I should say). But in that case, what IS real? What is it that we interpret or sample? What is the 'real' reality?
I don't know and I don't believe in anything as absolute as real reality. Its all relative to me and to anyone else who perceives it. There is nothing absolute about this universe.
But that does take the ground off your feet doesn't it.. if there is nothing absolute, where is my reference point? Why do I exist? Do I even exist? But there is something that does exist. Something that I like to think of as a single pulse of energy that exists for eternity. That pulse inevitably is associated with that sinc wave, that infinitesimal moment of time extending to infinity in another perspective.
Matter and energy and interchangeable. Im the mass that exists here and is typing this, and im the energy that is bringing up these thoughts and did before and shall in the future. Im here and im everywhere.. and thus im back to where I started, coming a full cycle.
What about the karmic cycle and rebirths?
In some vague way ive always believed in the theory of rebirths. Mass is shackled energy. I am caught up in the birth cycle till I can see the truth and break myself free of it. And when I do, I shall be like the particle, brighter than light, that gaining sufficient velocity, breaks free of gravity and is all-pervading for eternity. Time makes no difference to me, it's the most potent barrier to freedom that reality imposes. Billy pilgrim had those aliens to push him into becoming unstuck in time. I shall find a way within myself to achieve the same.
Now that my omnipresence is established, my omniscience shall follow suit naturally. I am a part of everything that has been and that shall ever be and that also implies that I know all that's ever been and all that shall ever be. In my teacher I shall have someone who can appeal to my inner knowledge, someone who can take me to the beginning of the path of introspection and lo, I seem to have reached that already. It remains for me to continue along that path and discover its delights and dangers for myself. This shall be my next endeavour in my path to self-knowledge and the tool I shall employ - meditation. Know thyself, that's my wish and my command.
What followed that command is a full stop. My thoughts have become aware of my transcription and have scorned my attempt to capture their ephemeral essence in this awkward medium of words. and thus, this voyeur's record of a thought train ends.
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