random thoughts.

The only question that matters in my life is understanding the mystery and wonder of consciousness.

Over the past few years, everything that I have learnt and experienced has been in the background of this question. I have acquired practical knowledge sure, but only to be able to continue pursuing this question skillfully. However, I have realised that the practicality and superficiality have gotten to me in some aspects. 

Some crevices of the catacombs this question uncovers require more than a superficial exploration. Perhaps every one does. There are lifetimes worth of knowledge in these treasure troves. Perhaps these valleys of the mind are the only places where humanity has ever been. Paths of movement through a manifold of resistance. 

Time may be an illusion - all the knowledge is here for me this instant. It is only in expressing its truth that time comes about in the physical dimension. I had in my haughtiness considered myself to be better than a seeker now. Someone who had dissolved this question of consciousness. But that is again dishonest, for the journey just goes deeper and deeper. 

I am a seeker now, precisely because there is nothing to seek. I am still conditioned, but in my move towards truth, I feel that the shackles of illusion may leave me. Or perhaps they won't, but I shall learn to dance within them.

To love people is to give them space to flower. To intelligently step aside when necessary but constantly allow them to unfold when possible. I do not truly love people. There is a movement of narcissism in all our conversations which also moves through me. 

It is not enough to say that one is a seeker. God must be sought through form, in perfection as much as possible be it in an artistic, social or any other pursuit.

I am a mover, in practice, moving through life. Taking from collective knowledge what is necessary, passing forward whatever I can through language. Perhaps language is the game, that is keeping this whole merry go round going. It must be spoken with articulation and clarity. 

Each word I speak is a vibration that I then have to live by, or it binds me in untruth. If I say I must speak and write with articulation and clarity, I am now being insincere if I don't. If the immensity of the truth I had imagined scared me before I had said it, I have the ability to slow down the approach to that truth. 

Jumping too fast, making random claims is brutish and ineffective. In life and in truth. There are subtelties to the games we play. and I can continue intellectualizing it as much as I want or actually do something about it.