Confessions Of My Mind

Nights of Whirlwinds

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 10 May 2025 18:48:00 +0000

Dejected over the long text chats,
Demoralized in the online meetings,
That are driven late into the nights
Along the steep curves of insanity -
With the people on the other side
Of the sunrise, exchanging cold words
Fueled by foggy perceptions.

Discouraged to hold my head high
By the whirlwinds of anger and despair
Born of overwhelming frustration
Day in and day out for months on end -
Testing the limits of fragile perseverance.

Yet the battle with righteousness endures,
Striving to make the wrong things right.
When the nagging troubles are vanquished,
The taste of victory is profoundly savored,
Releasing tranquility from banishment.

Then one day, destiny calls -
One meeting with the same people,
On the same side of the sunset.
And that made all the difference!

May 10, 2025

Bliss

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Thu, 09 May 2024 17:06:00 +0000

I stand before you, bare and naked
As an offering you might like;
As nothing else could stand a chance
For worshipping your enchanting beauty.
I do not have the slightest courage
For seeking your blessings to embrace you,
For I cannot stand in the presence
Of the divine energy dazzling in your eyes.
Thus, I have shed my skin of torture
Renouncing the world of pleasures
To experience your spirit that pervades
The whole Universe of all creation.

Engulf me in your arms swaying the cosmos,
To help me vanquish my malicious thoughts
And be guided by the beacon of wisdom
Obscured within the depths of intuition.
Let there be a reminder in my conscience,
Every second of every day by introspection
That there is no other form of happiness
Than being in your abode of eternal bliss
Spanning throughout the universe.

While I am aware that my mind is blind
In ignoring your everlasting presence,
It doesn't leave me alone until I become a slave to it.
So, help me draw my focus back to yourself,
And lure me towards the touch of your ecstasy
When I lose my reins to the spurious exhibits of joy
Painted by the army of habitual offences led by desire.

It is ironic to give you up for the sake of dark forces
But your arms are always open for me upon my surrender.
I am left in an abyss of confusion that sucks me down
During the tug of war that ensues for choosing a side:
Either the body ruled by lust, limited by unrelenting ego,
Or the soul that reflects your Omnipresent Spirit.

Light the path again that leads to your shelter,
And I will tread it entrusting myself in your able hands.
My breath whispers your name as a prayer with every step
While I begin experiencing the Oneness with you.

Advaita

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Thu, 14 Jul 2022 14:36:00 +0000

Advaita

To the seeker of truth,

Wake up from your dream;

The dream of false reality

Staged by your senses.

Wake up from your slumber;

The slumber of dreaming

With your eyes closed.

Free your mind,

Let go of the veil of illusion;

The illusion painted by

Your worthless ego.

The ego has blinded you and

Obscured the vision of reality.

Lose yourself; shed everything

That you think you have

To know that you have nothing.

Look inside yourself to learn

And realize that what you

See, hear, touch, taste,

Think and feel is one big lie.

Unlearn that this life is permanent

And learn about its fickle nature.

Let your thoughts transcend

Beyond the realm of your body

And discover that your soul

Is no different than

The Spirit of The Universe;

Where life comes and goes

Round and round in an endless cycle.

Believe that only this knowledge

Of Self-realization is permanent.

Become aware that you are

An indivisible speck of dust

Within the infinite universe.

Still the mind; stop its clamor

From grief and desires.

Accept that you are nothing

And yet you are everything

Both within and without.

Even with your eyes wide open,

Pure consciousness pervading the cosmos

Since the beginning of time

Will be enlightened within you

To experience eternal bliss.

And this is The Ultimate Truth.

July 14, 2022

Book Review: Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 23 Apr 2022 10:23:00 +0000

The plot of the story is battle between the pure intellectuals and pure socialists. It describes at length about dispute between two extremes: socialism and objectivism. I found this hard to believe because if individuality is one aspect, then social responsibility is another. These two concepts do overlap at a certain point. Otherwise, without objective, you cannot earn a livelihood and still contribute to society.

Another problem I had reading this book is its enormous length; I felt it was overdone. Rand has used her power of vocabulary to describe same things again and again with different lines, different passages with different sub-plots which makes the chapters redundant. Hence it took me more than an year to finish reading it. From the beginning, all the chapters inch towards the climax: "This is John Galt Speaking"; this chapter could have been a hundred page novel all by itself. It doesn't strike the right chord just by repeatedly intensifying to same issue and drag it to this point. I was tired and almost ready to give up. The work could have been more engaging by being more concise. Yes; the major problem of this novel is its length. With all this criticism, I acknowledge that there are some notable quotes, eye catching lines and passages that really nudges your soul.

It would have been worth your time if the book was cut short to explain its principles, not otherwise. If you really want to enjoy reading Ayn Rand's work on objectivism, try The Fountainhead.

But One Day

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sun, 25 Jul 2021 15:40:00 +0000

But One Day

"Raise your arms, now your chin,

Then close your eyes and your mouth,"

I said giving a bath to my naughty little boy.

The joy of experiencing such a thing:

The way he responded to my requests

Overpowered me until I took a deep breath,

I realized with a drop of sadness and fading smile

That it wouldn't last forever, but one day.

When he returned home after earning his graduation,

I couldn't be more proud of what he had achieved

Until with a bag of mixed feelings, I heard him say,

"I'll take it from here," only to figure out that

My boy is a grown-up now, but one day.

The long walk along the country side

With the help of my cane,

Soaking in the sight of birds returning

To their abodes against the backdrop of

Lush green hills along the water stream:

I indulge myself in such delightful spectacles

Reminiscing about my boy once I carried in my arms -

Until I felt a sudden grab on my shoulder

For my leg slipped and I was about to fall forward.

Then I glanced at the man with gray hair giving me

An assuring nod and my fading smile returned to life.

It is all but a dream that will come true; but one day.

July 25, 2021

Our Mother

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Tue, 29 Jun 2021 11:14:00 +0000

Our Great Mother

Her patience is immeasurable,

Her tolerance - unimaginable.

And yet, she feels burdened

While her patience runs out.

To ease herself, to save her spine,

And to save most of her children,

She forsakes a few of them

With thunder bolts of death,

Warning the rest with fury

Without showing the grief

Withheld in her eyes.

She is, my people,

Our Great Mother,

Nature.

Childhood's End

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Thu, 27 May 2021 06:35:00 +0000

Childhood's End

A heartfelt laughter for the silliest

Of things from a child's lips

Is like adoring a blooming flower.

It is undoubtedly a celestial form

Of God from the Heavens above.

The same laughter for the tiniest

Of things from a grown-up is indisputably

Smeared with contrived mockery -

With a laughter suppressed by the lips.

The joy of childhood is not just

A seed of innocence planted at birth,

But it is in the virtue of living by it

Instead of shying away.

The easiness of simplicity is made

Uneasy by the complexity of smugness.

It is the malice that spreads depravity

Until decadence is established as an ideal.

Innocence is the freedom to be naïve,

But willing to taste the nectar of pristine

Life all around us; but not scathing it

By wearing the crown of ignorance.

The idiocy of petty fights to win over

The balance instituted by natural order

Is argued instead of dismissing it

For glorious abuses and selfish exploits.

Instead of chewing the gift of the present,

The known past and the unknown future

Stir up distress in the unconscious smile,

Even though it is the symbol of serenity.

The pretense of adulthood is a vermin

Of misery and despair to innocence;

Sadly it is nourished to a thriving child

Until the virtue is lost into oblivion.

There is a child in each one of us;

Why is it lost in the journey through time?

Aren't we all the children of God?

Aren't we all?

Art by Lina Abojaradeh

May 27, 2021

Delight

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Mon, 28 Dec 2020 07:42:00 +0000

Delight

The doors of my mind opened

For the thoughts to wander about

The fields aided by my eyes

To admire the lush green tapestry

In a hope to make something up

For indulging in a poetic endeavor.

But I got lost in contemplation

About trivial matters triggered by

A spell in the subconsciousness

And I brooded over it now and again

Eating away all my valuable time.

Just then I felt a gentle squeeze

On my forefinger jolting me out

Of my useless and unworthy musing.

I looked down towards my kid

Whose eager little eyes pleaded

Me to carry him in my arms.

Feeling ashamed at myself,

My impulse prompted me to

Honor it with pity in my heart

Wearing a rueful smile, for there

Is no delight greater than this.

December 25, 2020

Rendezvous With Nature

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Wed, 30 Sep 2020 13:50:00 +0000

Rendezvous With Nature

The stream of words

Trickles from my mind

With no intention of

Making me conscious

Of the fact that I am

All alone in this world.

This feeling of great relief

Prospers when the draughts of

Fresh air is felt in my lungs

While my eyes relish

The spectacular view of

A calm lake on one side and

Vast paddy fields on the other.

Against the backdrop of

The setting sun, it looks like

A lush green carpet laid down

For the Gods to rest.

The long stroll on the lakeside path

Did not weaken my strength,

Nor did it cease to amaze me

As I gradually steered across

The farm of betel nut trees

Swaying with joy against

The cool evening breeze.

It is then I saw a pair of

Hornbills stealing the nuts.

When they caught me staring at them,

It was a magnificent sight

To watch them flap their wings

And fly away to the next farm.

The treasure cove of pleasure

Lies in such beauties of nature

Planted within man's reach.

It can be experienced only by

Training the senses to admire

The divinity of spiritual essence;

For life is truly untangled

When it is filled with tiny joys

That define simplicity.

September 30, 2020

Book Review: Moriarty by Anthony Horowitz

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Tue, 29 Sep 2020 04:16:00 +0000

Let me keep this short. I felt this novel is dragged. It could have been wrapped up a lot quicker than it is. But, I love the twist in this tale at the very end. I love stories with twists. Unlike the Sherlockian twist that the detective unfolds the mystery to his readers, I never foresaw a twist coming my way; and that's why it was quite an entertaining read. This is the time when I felt the drag made sense. Until this point, I felt it was moving rather slowly as the narrative seemed mundane, monotonous and unintelligent. There are some obvious loose ends as well. I think this kind of tone is deliberately set by the author for an explosive ending. Should the appearance of Sherlock Holmes took place anywhere but in the last chapter, then it would have spoiled the plot. It was a wise decision to make Holmes appear as part of a back story. Even though the story tries to set a darker tone with its gruesome scenes, it is not as good as the first: The House of Silk.

Beauty of Glory

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Fri, 18 Sep 2020 09:30:00 +0000

Beauty of Glory

Even if you showcase the beauty you created,

It is not going to fetch the glory you expect.

Because you behave like everyone else;

While getting lost in pleasing others,

You lose your focus!

Then realizing the mistake with regret,

You come back to your true self

And do what you always love to do

And celebrate the glory inside you.

That is the beauty of glory.

Don't Give Up On Your Child

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 12 Sep 2020 02:30:00 +0000

Don't Give Up On Your Child

Don't give up on your child.

Mind you! He is your child.

Fill him with hope.

Fill him with light.

He gets angry on you,

He may even shout at you.

He blames you, scolds you

Because he is your child.

He lies to you; steals from you.

Remember! He is your child.

Fill him with knowledge,

Guide him towards wisdom.

But don't give up on your child;

For he is gifted, he's blessed.

He looks up to you as God.

So don't let him leave you.

No matter what the world says

For it is always bound to say

But you know him better

Because he is your child.

Don't give up on your child.

Do not make him leave

Without saying goodbye.

He's your child, he's your child.

July 28, 2020

Tree of Spirits

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 05 Sep 2020 02:30:00 +0000

Tree of Spirits

There is a world far beyond our own,

Where there is a tree and not a soul.

Planted on the dark side of the horizon

It harbors the spirits lost in tragedies

Struggling to find a place in Heaven.

When the moon sneaks above the sky

Looking like a black orb without radiance,

Looms out of the dark clouds with a sneer,

Then the tree glows in vibrant colors

With smoky hues of red, green and blue

Forming a grim nimbus around it.

This grotesque spectacle is conjured

By the occult of witches and warlocks

For the souls try to take forms of the past

In a hellish way to liberate themselves

From the leash of branches entwined

Within the hideous trunk from which

Beautiful faces and rotten skulls and

Mortified eyes peer into the darkness

In a despairing search for a glimpse

Of something that breathes.

August 29, 2020

Notes

This work was originally published as part of a photo prompt hosted on Instagram.

Fickle Time

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Fri, 28 Aug 2020 14:11:00 +0000

Fickle Time

Time is fickle,

Memory is fragile,

Make it all worthwhile;

While it is alive.

Only this moment

Stands firm.

Live it,

Believe in it,

Before it fades away

Into oblivion.

Integrity

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Fri, 28 Aug 2020 09:31:00 +0000

Integrity

I would rather die alone

Rather than being with

Someone who tries to

Play with my self-esteem;

Who constantly let's me down,

And plays tricks on my back.

Who mocks me about

My dressing sense,

And gets grumpy if I reciprocate.

Who is jealous of my tiny

Moments of happiness.

To such people, I say this:

Please, don't be under the impression

That I will return for reconciliation.

I would not mind losing everyone.

Because to me,

Integrity is everything.

Book Review: The Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Mon, 24 Aug 2020 09:51:00 +0000

It is one of the finest books ever written by Arthur C. Clarke. I enjoyed reading this book right from the start. It painted vivid images as I read the novel. It is undoubtedly a master class of writing in modern literature and a perfect example of aesthetic blending of historical and science fiction.

With increasing technology goes increasing vulnerability; the more Man conquers Nature the more liable he becomes to artificial catastrophes.

But man-made obstacles had never stopped him before. Nature was his real antagonist-the friendly enemy who never cheated and always played fair, yet never failed to take advantage of the tiniest oversight or omission.

Sir Arthur C. Clarke does not underestimate the knowledge of his readers, nor does he get carried away by writing pure science. The amusement is only grows as I rode on the Orbital Tower. The motive of the plot explores the themes of man's desire to conquer the world, earn his fame despite the challenges of technology, politics and religion.

Over the years Rajasinghe - himself the bearer of a royal name, and doubtless host to many regal genes - had often thought of those words; they demonstrated so perfectly the ephemeral nature of power, and the futility of ambition. "I am the King." Ah, but which King? The monarch who had stood on these granite flag-stones - scarcely worn then, eighteen hundred years ago - was probably an able and intelligent man; but he failed to conceive that the time could ever come when he would fade into an anonymity as deep as that of his humblest subjects.

The plot is set in Taprobane, present day Sri Lanka, in the 22nd century where an ambitious engineer, Van Morgan, plans to build a space elevator on the mountain of Sri Kanda. This ingenious project is faced with strong opposition from the Buddhist Temple on top of mountain, from the devious hands of politics and also by critics (referred as Donald Ducks) whose only job is to criticize. But Van is not going to stop until his dream is realized.

The eyes of the Buddha were completely blank empty pools in which a man might lose his soul, or discover a universe. Upon the lips there lingered a smile even more ambiguous than the Mona Lisa's. Yet was it indeed a smile, or merely a trick of the lighting? Already it was gone, replaced by an expression of superhuman tranquility. Morgan could not tear his eyes away from that hypnotic countenance, and only the familiar rustling whir of a hard-copy readout from the console brought him back to reality – if this was reality.

For me, it's one of those books which I found extremely engrossing right from the beginning and made me read fast like I was always on the ledge to know what builds up next. The writing style is very subtle because it makes you read between the lines. No words or lines are thrown to the reader to digest directly; he is always made to chew first. It is very intelligently written that way.

“There will be some aerodynamic noise,” Morgan admitted. “But nothing like that near a large airport.” “Very reassuring,” said the Mahanayake Thero. Morgan was certain that he was being sarcastic, yet could detect no trace of irony in his voice. He was either displaying an Olympian calm, or testing his visitor's reactions. The younger monk, on the other hand, made no attempt to conceal his anger.

Unfortunately, Bickerstaff did not know his limitations. Though he had a devoted coterie of fans who subscribed to his information service – in an earlier age, he would have been called a pop-scientist – he had an even larger circle of critics. The kinder ones considered that he had been educated beyond his intelligence. The others labelled him a self-employed idiot. It was a pity, thought Morgan, that Bickerstaff couldn't be locked in a room with Dr. Goldberg/Parakarma; they might annihilate each other like electron and positron – the genius of one cancelling out the fundamental stupidity of the other.

What I really liked is the discussion of technical issues ranging from geographical and meteorological problems to astronomical difficulties that can encounter in building this huge tower. This was written in 1979 and the the reference of global internet search and social media blew my mind. You won't be disappointed if you are fan of science fiction. I won't be surprised but thrilled to watch this work on film.

Better Than Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 08 Aug 2020 03:00:00 +0000

Better Than Hell

The stream of bad blood flows

From one age to the next

And forms a rope of lineage.

Which is frayed in between

As a mark of unjust actions.

It is pulled harder and harder

To keep the tradition moving;

But it breaks painfully

Finally meeting a tragic end.

The two parts are tied again

But they refuse to succumb

To the unrelenting pressure.

For it is cut by the divine law

To strike a balance; and so

Giving birth to a rebel who

Persistently fights for truth.

To make ends meet

By any means necessary,

The rebel is lured by riches

As a diversion from wisdom.

The enticement didn't work

Because the magic couldn't

Play its cheap tricks for long.

The rebel was hell-bent upon

Weaving the frays with threads of justice.

"When truth itself cannot be polluted,

How can I be?"

Is what he said!

But where will that blood flow,

Other than in sewage drains?

It smeared the rebel with reeking

Muck of offence, vice and villainy.

The rebel conceded defeat

When the war broke out

With false allegations that

Are not worth fighting for.

In the face of humiliating abuse

The rebel left with a resolution:

It is always better to be in hell

Than spending even a minute

More here.

July 27, 2020

None The Wiser

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 01 Aug 2020 02:32:00 +0000

None The Wiser

Better late than never,

A wise man once said.

'Tis better soon than late.

But he is none the wiser.

When the man is wrong,

But anger is his crown

And ego is his throne,

He is none the wiser.

The stench is the guilt

When regret is in the pit.

Time chops off his head.

He was none the wiser.

He dies not in regret,

But wins forgiveness

Before his last breath.

But no; he's not the wiser!

The joy of winning fades,

But his tenacity never lasts

So his wrongs are erased.

'Tis he! Yes, 'tis he!

July 28, 2020

Litter

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 25 Jul 2020 02:30:00 +0000

Litter

In a room as big as the sky,

Crumpled papers are thrown.

The papers were born to fly,

But they were caught and torn.

The papers inscribed with hurt

Were sprayed with scent of shame.

Then they were scrambled in dirt

With a sole intention to defame.

The room was desperate to be free

From the litter that was cancerous.

But even a simple wish to unsee

The words of pain was hopeless.

It was neither morality nor hope

For the fire to ignite against vice.

But courage stood firm with a rope

To lash out at anything but nice.

The fire leaving no ashes in rage

Lighted the room with wisdom.

The hostility going on a rampage

Was vanquished with activism.

Notes

I don't want to spoil the subjective meaning of the readers, and I very much appreciate the variety of perspectives that this poem brings in. But to me, this work tries to reflect my deepest thoughts and emotions. The room here is my mind, heart and body. The papers are my feelings or emotions.

July 15, 2020

Clouds of Smoke

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 18 Jul 2020 02:30:00 +0000

Clouds of Smoke

Getting lost in the clouds of smoke,

Forgetful of the imminent choke;

Mesmerized by its misty spirit,

She drowns in the fantasy of it.

Walking through the fog of ash,

Even through the litter of trash,

She enjoyed every step by foot

And smiled at the drizzling soot.

I am on the hilltop, she believed,

And felt more alive than relieved.

The smog had become her reality,

Fillng her lungs with congeniality.

It was the only one to be near her,

That promised to be with her forever.

This can be considered as a sequel to Puffs of Smoke.

July 10, 2020

Puffs of Smoke

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Thu, 09 Jul 2020 14:31:00 +0000

Puffs of Smoke

Lost and confused, I light a joint;

Minding over matter with no point.

With the first suck of distress,

The poignant past is triggered.

Unsheathing the dagger of bitterness,

It is jabbed until the pain is heard.

The fume is held long enough

Ignoring the shortness of breath.

Then it is whispered out in despair

With well-timed rings of death.

The second smoke is breathed in

For the sake of temporary relief.

With the cuts driving deep within,

The hapless mind is in disbelief.

The final gush of smoke is inhaled

Wishing for a tiny bit of solace.

But the heartbeats are overburdened

By the poisonous vapors of disgrace.

For the end of ageless torment to begin

The soul concedes to depart from the skin.

July 9, 2020

Book Review: Lord of the Flies

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Sat, 02 May 2020 05:32:00 +0000

The story is horrendous - I was quite disturbed in the end. I came to understand, how pathetic our attempts to control life can be if there is lack of morality and lust for power in the presence of fear and violence. This novel tries to show just that. A group of innocent little kids aged between six and ten lose their innocence to become savages. On the uninhabited island, the fear of the beast grips them and makes them paranoid. With paranoia they turn violent and break any rule that tries to control them. It really questions the intellect of the human being if it's not put on a leash of principles and discipline. If it's on the loose, then humans are nothing short of wild beasts.

Transcendence

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Tue, 21 Apr 2020 16:21:00 +0000

Transcendence

Suffering from a heavy heart,

With a lump in the throat,

Drenched in sorrowful tears -

Are the lines of bygone years.

But the past cannot be condemned

However bitter it might have been.

For it has taught many lessons

In the school of hard knocks.

Now the soul is flourished

Beyond the limits of misery.

It has outgrown mortal wounds

And transcended the common

Understanding of knowledge

With a courageous breakout

From the flesh of transient body

Confined in the sphere of illusion.

It has embarked upon a journey

Towards the Supreme One -

The infinite, the boundless,

The pervasive omniscience,

The ultimate truth of divinity

Which I am already a part of

Since the beginning of time

Until its endless weaving of life,

Where it resides forever and ever.

Inspired by the story of Jada Bharata and the philosophy of Hinduism.

April 21, 2020

Book Review: Children Of Time

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Wed, 15 Apr 2020 11:35:00 +0000

Whoa! It feels great to finish reading this thick novel. Yes, its 600 pages long. Thanks to the lock down, I was able to spend more time on reading. The characters are unique. The story is about the last remnants of humanity trying to find a home planet in the universe. The central character is a spider named Portia. Its all about how she evolves over centuries and dominates her colonies on the green planet. I felt it is dragged. The plot is heavily built around themes like Messiah, AI and it tends to bias the reader towards a single perspective towards the end. But when I was reading the last three chapters, I felt the story should not end. Because the climax is just beautiful. They express what really makes us human, what humanity really means. And it took me completely by surprise, that how wonderful a twist can be written. But I surely felt, the book could be shortened by 100 pages at least by removing the unimportant stuff.

Find this book on Goodreads.com

What is God?

noreply@blogger.com (Amit Herlekar) — Mon, 13 Apr 2020 09:28:00 +0000

This is my small attempt to answer the very big question: What is God?

Sometimes we say, "God is everywhere." or some people ask, "Where is God?" Let me just say that God is another word for Infinite intelligence and wisdom that governed by a divine order. The divine order is the cosmic energy of every living thing in this universe. It is the spirit of purity. Now when I say purity, it is often associated with love. What is love? Love is is kindness, compassion, anything which is not evil. Purity is free: formless and boundless - free from ego, anger, pain, suffering, fear, anxiety, jealousy, and desire. Purity, in fundamental form, is in humility, honesty, peace and harmony.

It is the evil thoughts in the mind contaminates purity. It tries to contain purity with evil forms. That's when negativity gives birth. It's strangely easy for these negative thoughts to slip into the mind and make you believe them. But once you start training your mind with the help of regular prayers with a firm belief in purity, you will begin to experience God consciousness. God is not something or someone to look up to. It is seeing and realizing within and without in pure spirit. You have to accept everything as they are; go with the flow.

Further Reading