Sunday, September 29, 2013

The Self

I couldn’t live with myself any longer. And in this a question arose without an answer: who is the ‘I’ that cannot live with the self? What is the self? I felt drawn into a void! I didn’t know at the time that what really happened was the mind-made self, with its heaviness, its problems, that lives between the unsatisfying past and the fearful future, collapsed. It dissolved. The next morning I woke up and everything was so peaceful. The peace was there because there was no self. Just a sense of presence or “beingness,” just observing and watching.

-Eckhart Tolle's Enlightenment moment

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Glass House

As I write this, I am writing a story. On the page to you; from the page to me. I am not editing this passage and that too is another story…

Keep with me here

So right now, you too are writing a story. You are reading the story, of my story, creating another story in your life. It’s the thousands of mirrors which you see when you look into multiple mirrors. Everyone is reading and writing a story; the infinite epic.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Crying Heart

the heart is right to cry
even when the smallest drop of light,
of love,
is taken away.
perhaps you may kick, moan, scream
in a dignified
but you are so right to do so 

in any fashion
until god returns
to you


Thursday, September 12, 2013


Turn off the light
Your eyes will adjust to the dark. 

Get an injury
Your body will heal the wound. 

Your practice will quiet the mind.

Be conscious 
Your spirit will be set free.

Sunday, September 01, 2013

What sound will the universe make
When it dies?
Will it crumble and crack,
Or let out a sigh?

Will it summon tears tragic?
Or at peace with the matter
Sit silent in thought
Or exude cosmic laughter?

How will we know if
The universe bursts?
Are we its sole conscience
Bound to one tiny earth?

These things
These things
The coyote sings
In the deep of the meadow
So lonely for spring

Will we ever know if
There's none left to wonder?
When atoms shake naked
Under skies torn asunder

How will we know when
The sage is withholding?
In the deep of the meadow
A flower unfolding

-Rich Pauloo