An Anonymous YOU!

Continuation...

“Where are you?” Alice asks with a beam of uncertainty in her breaking voice.
“Right here,” I casually reply casting a silhouette of my smile into her vacant eyes.
“No you aren’t!” she exclaims with agitation, nervously shuffling under my arms.
“What makes you say that?” I continue the conversation nonchalantly; shifting my gaze into space.
“The look in your eyes,” tearing up she resigns herself from underneath the blankets and removes her fragile frame altogether from the bed.
“There is no look in my eyes…” I uplift with an effort towards where she stands pretending deliriously to show some concern.
“And that’s why I know your not here!” She sighs leaving the room to me and my heaving thoughts.

I pull on my pajamas at a leisurely pace and stroll into the kitchen. Alice stands over the stove, boiling a pint of water for our morning coffee. Her organized mannerism, her apprehension for detailing, the sudden glitter of anxiety in her sparkling eyes, the gloomy smile, her ability to swallow her own emotions as though they didn’t exist, protrude perfection. She defines womanhood. A proud mother, a dignified wife and a sincere devotee of the community; her life has apparently fallen apart. She doesn’t complain neither does she blame, yet all she needs is gratitude. The brilliance of this juvenile woman is her compassion and her composure. I am in awe as I witness her metamorphosis from an abused wife to a dutiful mother every morning. Her petite fingers wrap lunch for the toddler who gushes into the room like the wind outside the window. Galloping across the room, I catch her in my arms and carry her towards the coat hanger. Helping Caradie into her blue and grey parka, I let her trot towards Alice who kisses her an affectionate goodbye. In my night gown I see her off onto the school bus waiting impatiently outside in the brisk cold. Shivering I return to my dwelling and over to where Alice pours me coffee.

My weekdays start and end like stagnant rocks catching moss. I make no evident progress, not at work, not at home. The bills keep pilling by the rubbish bin and we assemble our responsibilities every weekend. Blue Mondays, my blue suit, my blue mood and my blue agenda, I carry them all on my way to work. Today, I mend my routine, I make mal-adjustments. A hesitant phone call to my secretary rids unnecessary delay.

“Melinda?” I blow into the ear-piece before she regulates the formal introduction.
“Yes Shane?” She sounds distant and yet taken aback.
“Tell everyone I’m sick, I won’t be coming in till Wednesday,” I reside to briefness of last details.
“Get well soon,” she wishfully gleams, ignorant of cutting me half-way through my incomplete sentence.
“Thank you.” I tentatively play nice. “Tell Sarah I need the conference work done by Wednesday.” I manage to mold the situation to work, my primary objective. I conclude the phone call and saunter back into the kitchen in my wet hair and my casual attire.

Standing to magnify the bare necessity of relationships, Alice passes an amused look across the room to where I rummage through the music rack. I feel her over-possessing presence and acknowledge her witness my folly with a smile. Her endurance remarkably drives within me a need to cuddle in her enormous adoration. I carry myself resentfully to the counter; resentful to show affection, above all resentful to show any need for affection. I stand behind her placing my hands on the marble surface on either sides of her fragile body. My chin resting on her shoulder, I lay kisses on her neck. To see a smile float up and radiate appreciation, I am comforted. I roll up her shirt and slide my hands to draw perimeters with my bare fingers across the curve of her waist and the bend of her back.

Her porcelain skin and the velvet touch of her fingers sent a rush of blood through my veins overflowing my offended sensations with it. She turns around and gently slips her bottom lip in between the gap of my mouth. I feel her stream within me and evaporate suddenly. I open my eyes to witness my savior, my salvation, my desire and my fantasy. No doubt, she is my friend of all my friends. She doesn’t necessitate saying a thing and we’ll keep laughing all night long. I am displaced; in her existence I am restored.

“Why do you always go away like that?” She plays with the collar of my vintage shirt and cautiously asks avoiding friction.
“I’m always here.” I nervously defend my rivulet of thoughts that disperse me from reality as a whole.
“It’s alright to miss her you know,” she returns to work, holding back words that eventually weigh up to tears.

The wounds of rejected love are the ones that can never be healed. The subjective pain of loss can never be materialized; hence one needs to forget, or in worst case scenario one has to forget. Both of us suffer the same. The dividing line of our failure to achieve love of another is that I live to die everyday and Alice dies to live with me and yet without me. Together we watch, we on look and observe one another through continual triumph to strengthen ourselves against what has gone to dissipate. We erect walls of self-defense against hurt yet we feel stings of the past and we mould expressions to deceive one another. It is poignant to be a part of such devastation and among despair be worthless soldiers of a futile marriage.

Hope is ambiguous and we choose to exist within quintessence greater than ourselves in times of disappointments.

Something, we must be able to do something; nothing, yet there is nothing that we do.

An Anonymous YOU!

CHAPTER 1:

Maybe this summer I am meant to lose my sense to the world that pathetically tries to make sense of everything around it and within it. I say “If in doubt, simply love.”

Why did you look at me in the shadows and smile like we were old friends?

It’s in your voice, the melody that plays a simple song, one that I have heard all this time. The tune of mercy, the glory of cowardice, the melancholy of the elite, the shame of the poor; above all it’s the song of the nightingale. I am utterly impressed. The dignified wisdom of an old man, I am shattered by the engraving of an age spent with you. The arms wrapping me in embrace are the ones that slap me out of illusion, twist me to reality and eventually subdue me to death. It is the prowess of my blind love, the pictures of you and me. It is the candid wit of your passion.

Shall we venture onto this estranged journey to crash into one another?

Perhaps, unanswered mysteries remain the quirks in our answered routines.

Hope remains ambiguous.

The extent of noise through the windows of my empty apartment is an invitation to the world that lies beyond. The temptation to know the unknown is a blasphemy to the distance we have managed to lay bare for further members of our generation in our lonely lives. The path, our path, stands aloof, unraveled, and in wait of travel.

If moments were butterflies, even if they were ladybirds, I would seal them safely into empty bottles of jam and sit idly in wait of a miracle. My inane reasons to find eternal salvation shall remain my only roots to you. Perhaps as humans we aren’t supposed to wait; maybe we aren’t supposed see miracles, maybe we aren’t supposed to catch moments like helpless insects, maybe as humans we aren’t supposed to suppose at all.

“Live in the moment to save yourself from grave regrets,” she whispered into my right ear. I saw her lips move, her hands, oh her lovely hands make little gestures, but for no apparent reason at all, I couldn’t hear the words she audibly pronounced. The trivia of her perception was innate as she amused often.
We were well aware of the eventual conclusion of our little “romance,” yet we abided within and without like we were soul mates. I have learnt a great deal from you and your inspirations. I have more knowledge of my surrounding, a raw awareness of humanity, a better understanding of myself and a consciousness that fails to betray me. I too, like you did once, call this astuteness innate. If I had known then, what I know now, I would’ve spared myself of crucial misery. Possibly, the only remedy to love is pain. The subsiding of heart-ache is an enduring experience only time can spare the lucky ones’ of us.

Nothing, absolutely nothing survives; in the end all is One and One is all.

An Anonymous YOU!

Introduction

Standing stagnated within the eclipse of time, I see a vision, perhaps a blurry misconception. My focus is obscured by the tears developing in my eyes. In my ears I feel blood. The trickling of warm liquid down my lucid cheeks sends a cold shivering down my spine and I quiver to rid the discomfort. Quickly I restore my shattered countenance and manage a smile with no apparent endeavor. My lips sealed in a fraudulent happiness; the infectious grin catches the eye of the sun. Gleaming rays open the sky into a new day. I am reborn, perhaps deliberately mistaken to be rekindled by the fire of life, hope and above all love.

The compunction of suicide is a turning point in great men; there is no reason to wonder why a foolish man would sacrifice his soul to the demons, that we may assume may hunger for such minds. Still the thoughts of the ordinary stray onto the path of such “bravery,” and to many such “cowardice.” I stood there in hope, hope for nothing and hope for everything. Maybe if destiny really existed and if vocation wasn’t a lively myth, some of us would wait for a prophecy, a pre-chosen path to nirvana, we would wait for love to take hold of our determinants and escalate the earth from beneath our feet. I put myself in such extreme conditions; I felt the enormity of such profound moments in my life, I was elevated by an invisible revelation, I was moved by sorrow, I was pushed on by sheer gratitude, I believe I had nothing to go forth with, I believe that I had lived to be alive and that my mission, my purpose and my path had be completed. I owe nirvana to you.

In my book, I talk regardless of apprehension and ambiguity about you.

I mention mere personalities that took my breath away, showed me apathy and sympathy, showed me there is no difference as long as both are one and one is both. They played roles on this miniature stage as if broad-way was in the atmosphere, danced to the music of air with no care, sang words of wisdom, dreamed yet failed, perhaps failed to dream. These are the people that lived larger than life, lived larger than themselves and lived larger than the people around them. These are the people that shape me and my story.

I take into consideration the liberty of unburdening my thoughts in complicated terms. To those who may read to find substance eventually, it was written for them. To those who fail to connect with the intertwined conjunctions, I apologize; yet I write for them as passionately as their predecessors, to bring a revolutionary awareness of what they might surpass.

In my book, I unravel the layers of my many skins. It is initially a book based on self-discovery, on self-evaluation and self-approval. It establishes the basis of who I was and how I became. To my great astonishment, I tend to expose truth rapidly and disclose secrets rather placidly. If you have patience to listen in on the sound of silence for long hours, you have patience enough to get you through this book, to get you through me, to get through to yourselves.

Ali Discovers That Muhammad Is the Greatest

The son of the great emperor Muhammad was Ali. As Ali sat down at the foot of the palace one day to over look the boys of the nation play football at the front gate, he amused himself with random thoughts that crossed his trialing mind. He eventually decided to know who the greatest emperor of all mankind was. He leaped to his bare feet and escorted by a group of lazy army men he returned safely to his bedroom. Although the task itself seemed a tedious job, Ali managed none-the-less and imagined himself to seek answers for he wanted no one else’s intervention. Ali strongly adhered to the concept of making his own decisions and hence, set out on his mission unadvised.

Ali set out straight forwardly to his father. As Muhammad sat reading “The Quran,” Ali approached the king with a haughty attitude and ignored the initial procedures of being presented before the emperor. Ali deliberately without anyone knowing refused to bow and put at test his father’s patience and tolerance.

“How dare you come hither without showing me respect? I could’ve never imagined my own son to be so insolent and undivine?” Muhammad fumed with rage. The mercilessly scolded son returned grumbling, “This proves that my father cannot be the greatest.”

Ali on his next venture went to the quarters of the Sultanate. He entered the room of the sweepers. He embraced Salman, the head sweeper of the Palace. Even though the smell of Salman was excruciating to bear, Ali stood there in his presence making small-talk. Salman had not known how to greet the son of the emperor for he was the sweeper, the lowest of even the lower classes, clearly among the “untouchables.”
Embracing Ali still he heard the great son whisper in protest, “You are so foul and unclean! Why do you have to make me dirty also?”

The rage on the sweeper’s face was obvious. The offence had struck the man on the wrong side of his neck; he blew, “You embrace me yourself and have the audacity to accuse me of being filthy? I respected you, I loved you fro u are Muhammad’s son. How come you hugged me knowing I clean your washrooms and when you part you have all sorts of things to say against me?”

Ali in fear of having his throat slit hastily left Salman’s presence. On the way, he made rational conclusions, “Like my father, Salman cannot be the greatest either. Both of them could not conquer their anger. If they would not conquer their own anger, what kind of spiritual greatness would they possess?”

The last member of the living legacy was Taimoor. Ali decided to examine his patience as well. When Ali approached Taimoor’s abode, the man was soundly asleep. The son of the emperor had managed to anger both his father and Salman, he had come to the last participant with the anticipation that this would be simply as easy as the former two.

While Taimoor lay still deep into his sleep, Ali decided to drop water onto his warm body at a steady pace. After carrying the procedure for a prolonged period of time Taimoor refused to wake up. Ali in frustration kicked Taimoor’s chest vigorously. The man woke up shouting with concern, “Boy are you hurt? My child are you hurt? Tell me please! You kicked me so hard I thought u were hurt, tell me if u are and what can I do for you?”
Ali in ignorance and utter shock of Taimoor’s response replied in amazement, “My Lord, among the trinity -- Muhammad, Salman and Taimoor -- you are by far the greatest.”

This was Ali’s realization. His father, the emperor scolded him because he refused to bow and show respect to his father who sat reading the Quran and in spite of worshipping Allah forgetting His main message of “only” bowing in front of Him. Salman was enraged at the insult Ali had made. He too, like his father had not foreseen the boy’s wisdom. On the other hand Taimoor, being kicked ruthlessly had forgiven Ali and regardless of the mishap showed him compassion and concern.

In a simple story as such, we learn that anger is not the answer to many disciples. We may in fright show respect but what is such respect worth? Respect is when a boy of fifteen uses his foot to examine and extinguish great men from simply good men.

!?!?! TIME !?!?!

Time is love.

If we love time, we have terminal pleasure, much needed joy and then God accepts from us only that of what we have –Ignorance-- in such moments of unclearity He gives us Light.

Pleasure.

Pleasure on the physical plane, the vital plane and the mental plane is very short lived, but during its brief span pleasure injures the real in us. The real in us is our cry for the truth or light - our cry for Infinity's heart, Eternity's body and Immortality's soul. Today's pleasure ends in tomorrow's frustration and destruction. Tomorrow's frustration and destruction end in the total eclipse of our inner divinity. Therefore, a sincere seeker of the transcendental Truth tries to avoid pleasure.

Joy.

In the spiritual life, joy is of paramount importance.

If a spiritual seeker remains in a cheerful frame of mind he makes progress. Joy means confidence in his life of aspiration. Joy is self-discovery and self fulfillment.

Ignorance.

When we go deep within, we see that we have nothing to give to God but ignorance. Our life of ignorance we offer to God, and in return God offers to us a life of beauty, a life of plenitude, a life of infinitude.

Light.
Light is self revelation. Self revelation grows into self manifestation, and self manifestation grows into self perfection. We notice self perfection in the heart of the finite. We notice God perfection in the body of the infinite.

Time is our oneness with God, our conscious oneness with God. We establish this on the strength of our inner cry. Mother Earth offers us her wealth: patience, sacrifice and compassion. Father Heaven offers us His wealth: love, wisdom and illumination. With the help we get from Mother Earth, we prepare ourselves for salvation. With the help we get from Father Heaven, we prepare ourselves for divine glorification. Salvation we get from earth, and divine glorification we get from Heaven. The animal in us does not care to know about time. The human in us knows that there exists something called time, but it does not value time. The divine in us utilizes time most effectively and divinely. The Supreme in us, the Inner Sense, fulfills His dream and His reality here on earth through time. Here on earth a child has no time even to eat his candy. A young boy has no time to study. A young man has no time to think. An old man has no time to rest. But a seeker knows the secret to valuing and preserving time in such dire needs.

Un-aspiring human beings do not enlist the help of time. They do not know the value of time. They think that achievement is of paramount importance, and not the time required for the achievement. So they do not care for time; they neglect time. They do not realize that time is the bridge that will carry them to the other shore. But the aspiring person, the seeker, appreciates time and utilizes it. When it is time to eat, he will eat; when it is time to think, he will think; when it is time to study, he will study; and when it is time to rest, he will rest. For him, each day is a new challenge, a new opportunity. He enters into the battlefield of life to conquer darkness, limitation, bondage and death. He has to fight and rest at the appropriate times. He has to do all the things that are necessary to invoke Peace, Light and Bliss from above in infinite measure so that he can bring to the fore his inner divinity and offer it to the world at large.
There are two types of time in the spiritual life: earth time and Heaven time. Earth time is necessity, and Heaven time is reality, while necessity's reality is God intoxication. The seeker in us feels that it is of supreme necessity for him to see the face of reality. And when he sees the face of reality he becomes a God intoxicated soul. Reality on its part enters into our necessity and fulfils our necessity by illumining us within and without.

A God intoxicated soul comes to realize that he has to achieve the eternal Truth first and then serve the divinity in humanity. First he has to achieve the Highest, the Absolute, and only then can he serve the Absolute in mankind. In this way he will be able to grow into the transcendental reality. God's Reality, on the other hand, feels that since it already is eternal, it must always serve its own all pervading consciousness. The tree feels that it is its bounden duty to fulfill the needs of the branches, leaves, flowers and fruits. It also knows that it has the capacity to do this. So the one climbs up the tree and then brings down the fruit to share it with humanity, while the other, who is already seated on the top of the tree, comes down immediately and shares the fruit with the aspiring humanity.

In the vital there is something that we have to get rid of, and that is aggression, or the feeling of superiority and supremacy.

In the mind there is something that we must get rid of, and that is doubt. We doubt others and we doubt ourselves. When we doubt others, nothing happens to them. They go on perfecting themselves through their daily experiences. It is we who suffer each time we doubt, for we eclipse our inner sun. This is the sun that is ready to offer us its light in abundant measure; it is ready to kindle the flame of aspiration within us so that we can climb up high, higher and highest into our transcendental Divinity.

In the heart we also have something to get rid of, and that is insecurity. Very often we feel that we are helpless, we are hopeless and we are useless. But this wrong notion we must not cherish. It was He who inspired us to walk along the road of Infinity, Eternity and Immortality. If He Himself had not inspired us, we could not have launched into the sea of spirituality. But He did inspire us, and He continues to inspire us every day. So we can never be helpless, we can never be insecure. We know there is Light within us. On the contrary, today's impossibility is tomorrow's destined achievement. There is simply no such thing as impossibility in our spiritual life.

We know that we are aiming at a Goal, the Goal that has everything divine for us in infinite measure. Since He is our Source, since He is our Goal, how can our ultimate achievement be limited? Everything that we want to achieve, everything that we want to grow into, needs time; and our time is determined by God. We shall not pull God's Hour. We shall not push God's Hour. We shall simply play our role in the space of time!