Sparkling Phials of Eternal Glory

Unidentified

2013-03-07T17:08:00.000-08:00

You are only as good as you think you are. Difficult though it seems, the secret to being content is to know that it is the mind alone that holds the seed to all actions and also is the vulnerable ground that bears its consequences. Every other thing ever sensed is only a trick of light, sound and friction on the senses. Intuition, the much talked about sixth sense, comes with experience. Strong, 'powerful' intuition comes as a result of repeated experiences of successful outcomes of that intuition.
Everybody has minds that act similarly and project the same pseudo-real world (that includes every single object of thought excluding themselves) to blindly trusting senses.
All events happen in that projected world and then one loses true sense of identity because the outside of the mind is such a convincingly beautiful projection. Every single thing perceived by the mind is merely that; a perception.
Even right now, while a myriad of planets and stars change positions and create patterns in the skies, most likely oblivious to our existence, we gaze through telescopes in wonder and some of our more accomplished fellow humans study these patterns and speculate. Speculate whether these bright celestial bodies are physically reachable, which is to say, not entirely pointless in my head at present, but a delightfully meandering pass time. Change is generally thought to be welcome and good.
There won't ever be any dearth of change. Familiarity and constancy on the other hand dance in harmony with being content and happy.
These musings seem to remain in my head at all times. But till there is clarity of thought,no amount of thinking these thoughts will make them familiar enough to be comfortable thinking about.

With that note, I end my convoluted, 5 in the morning mind refreshing.

mind garble song

2013-03-07T16:39:00.001-08:00

Someday, I hope to get demystified by those intriguing times when the mind seems to reflect a medley of dramatic skies looming overhead and songbirds that refuse to sing. To identify with that mood is to imagine standing at the water's edge under a red canopy while spirited crashing waves clap against a gradually eroding rock. Funnily though, it is not melancholy that you find at the surface. What reflects on the face is a placidly blank composure with occasional bright smiles and giddy headed laughing that hurts in the elbows. Somehow. So splendidly messed up. Like the dark dungeons of thought are decorated by a happy person that sings about squirrels. and then there is the mildly felt presence of a musically thumping heart. Then arrives the sudden longing to read simply worded poetry. It is indeed remarkable how the mind holds it all.
Sleep is a foreign experience.

When the only way to feel better is to stop thinking. That, and perhaps also that beautiful sense of getting pulled further into the ocean with every next wave while standing still on wet sand.

Queer Nothings

2012-06-20T00:13:00.001-07:00

Time had reduced the man to a shrivel; belittling him in every respect, from his stature to his expectations from life. The only striking feature of his general appearance was his long white beard that would have been cause for much stumbling; had he not wisely braided and wound the silver strands about his small self. His equally long and white mane formed a halo about his head. This attracted many locals to him and they hounded him with questions of life, fate and God. He humored them sometimes, only too glad for the company and the food they got along. One day the man who had long since begun to hallucinate, got a vision of an endless tunnel. He decided that it was some sort of divine intervention informing him of some oncoming event of significance. He decided to do absolutely nothing of it as he believed that any such attempt might change his prospects of being benefited by the outcome of that vision.
Thus deep in thought; he sat down in the middle of nowhere (middle and nowhere being relative parameters), and looked about. He saw a classic case of 'absolutely nothing '.
'This is it,' he thought. He almost imagined himself levitating as a result of the resultant exhilaration.
Suddenly, out of nowhere he saw a light, brilliant in every respect, especially its effect on its lone observer; that caused
his eyes to be glazed with a glare and a new found warmth crept within him. He paused, expecting something of significance to happen. Nothing did. Nothing, in fact, perceived as something of much profound meaning, was thought by the man to be the secret to life's mysteries.
This in turn led him to the following train of thought;
Only on what I know can i claim my right on;
and I know nothing; likewise
I claim my right over all of nothing.
But then again, everything is merely transcendental and delusional
so everything is in fact; nothing
thus I must be a Supreme Being,
the pervade-r of everything and nothing.
This extremely comforting feeling (justifiable) made him sing in joy of newly found meaning to life.
Whilst in this state of pure bliss he walked, a spring in every step, only to be brought back to reality by the powerful impact of a strong tree bark on his head. He waited excitedly for something to happen because he had read a few books on visions and cosmic travel being propagated at times by a severe blow to the head and a resultant loss of consciousness.
But 'nothing' remained loyal to him, only this time to be welcomed with gross disappointment.
He slid down the tree and sat at its roots in sudden melancholy.His silver locks cushioned his head from the tree's unfriendly bark, when suddenly, when all hope seemed to have diminished, something did happen.
A plump red apple fell on his head.
The man, being born after Newton's apple discoveries, and being weary after too much thought, ate the apple greedily and fell asleep under the tree.

Muffled Voice Amplifier

2011-01-24T07:29:00.000-08:00

Eloquently she speaks,
her clear voice carries meaning in depth -
earnestly spoken;
of confused ambiguity, she's inept
Her audience, sees the world as she does,
so convincing, no doubt occurs
And she continues,
holding them captured in attention,
animated in voice, unwavering intention
Some cite fate, some cite divine favour;
but none can deny her overpowering demeanor
With utmost ease she gets points across,
leaving no space for argument; and for disappointment, no cause
But, one thing sure makes this orator fumble,
it's her lack of ability, with people, to mingle
For she can't love and she won't converse,
with people, as is thought fit for her years.
When there's need to interact, one on one,
she turns away, that person she'll shun.
Her face goes as blank as the clear skies in summer,
her proficiency and words, are reduced to mere stammer.

Yesnsense

2011-01-24T07:18:00.000-08:00

Montgomery exceptionalises donut flavored jelly beans
that look like caramel covered C-shaped plastic beads

He feels justified in saying that they taste, most astonishingly
of his dog's nose after an extra cheesy lasagna

I acknowledge thy bafflement

It was meant to be by the stars I'm afraid

2011-01-24T07:17:00.000-08:00

In search of a powerful antidote

to ward off difficult-to-resist urges

of stupidly contradicting my own views.

2011-01-24T07:15:00.001-08:00

No one can yank me out of this divine delirium, Mr. Rochester. This has come from a million moments spent knowing myself, the person that I am. And now that I know the truth about my being, about the true reason why I am here, I feel that no element in the Creation can relinquish me from this aura of pure bliss that allows me splendid feelings of oneness with all the forces of the Universe.

Alpha Propeller

2011-01-24T07:14:00.001-08:00

Potential, it was a million worth,
but efforts, a few.

Brains could've done the talking-
but laid back, you stayed in the queue

There needn't have been no mocking,
but no one cared so nor did you

The world, at you would've been gawking
but the gawker, it was you.

Love was in the making; but thanks to apathy, it outgrew
Fool! You need a shaking, your fate's a direct effort mirror-view

The world lies in waiting, don't only dream, just do!

Through the Aye Aye's Eye

2011-01-11T22:46:00.000-08:00

And then at the window, the Aye Aye bird,

Ruffled it's feathers and looked upward.

From the heavens, a golden egg was to drop,

On the head of the Aye Aye, it was meant to stop.

So the bird had comically inclined it's head,

So the egg would slide off and bounce in it's nest, instead.

Soon through the clouds wafting by,

Came the egg, seemingly attempting to fly.

But the Aye Aye was ready; pretty head cocked,

To avoid any chance of getting knocked.

But things did not go as well as planned,

The egg seemed to take ages to land.

Long after, the bird, to look upward, gathered the pluck,

But remained alert to promptly duck.

The egg was gleaming a few inches away,

Stuck on a thin tree, dangerously a-sway.

Cleverly, the bird, keeping an eye on the egg,

Jumped upward and landed beside target, on one leg.

At that moment, the egg cracked open and revealed,

A little Aye Aye! And big Aye Aye squealed. :)