I often
catch myself drifting in the train of thought. Only if I were to succumb to
this overpowering current of the river of thoughts, I would find myself, every
time, in an undiscovered territory of my mind which wants to show me a new
perspective of reality.
These arbitrary glimpses of perspective make me wonder if the source, of such bespoke gifts, lies within my mind or in a preternatural realm if the likes of the latter exist.
I am
gawking at the beautiful dark sky embellished with stars. I feel the therapeutic
touch of the countryside air fill me. I am starting to acknowledge the
darkness, rather a sense of reverence for darkness is being born.
As I close
my eyes, I see darkness. It’s the absence of patterns that my brain had learned
and labelled over the years to make sense of this world. The colours, it has
assigned to various frequencies in the visual spectrum, has vanished. The
illusionary 3-D world which only exists within my head is gone. The absence of
distractions. All I can see is pure blissful nothingness. The truth from which
everything originates. The cradle in which the universe rests and plays.
Could I say
that I am witnessing the ubiquitous substance of creation? Isn’t darkness the
true nature of the universe? I have the same darkness within me. It’s the same
darkness that’s outside.
What’s between is this thin membrane of my body that stops me from assimilating into the whole, the source. The body has merely borrowed an ounce of this prevalent matter of life, this nothingness. It’s more like a contract that promises a regular exchange of this life-giving matter in form of breaths.
Is body more than a bubble, one which encapsulates what we know as life?
What’s outside is what’s inside. My body is just a vessel waiting to meet the soil.
