Song of the Free

 Terrence Tao said in one of his interviews that sometimes some problems are just not solvable within one lifetime. 

Because of being born at the wrong time, your attempt to look at the problem is like trying to climb the sheer face of a mountain with your bare hands. 

I suppose with the truth it is always like that. The sheer determination to bring something into being which does not currently exist. That is what brings forth greatness. 

There is great sensitivity and hardness to that. Austerities are in some sense a bulwark for the inner sensitivity to bloom. 

Two authors I immensely respect are Krishnamurti and Kapil Gupta. They have tasted and embroiled themselves in truth for a good proportion of their lives. 

In some sense they are like Rumi, whose writing I have also been absorbing the past few days. 

However, there is a lightness and carefreeness in Rumi. 

It is a ecstatic sensitivity that in its highest movement reaches up to the gods. And perhaps his truth was to always be in that. 

All these stalwarts are reminders of human potential. It makes something inside me shudder when I look at the parts of collective consciousness that gave birth to them. 

Yet we are all created from the same tempest. That pure dynamism that rages inside us.

The one in whose salutations all of the Ashtavakra Gita has been composed. 

The potential is perhaps limitless. 

I do not know who I am meant to be. 

Yet it would be a waste of a life to never have learnt to channel that. 

Every moment of your life can be an experience of the religious ecstasy. Pure movement and enjoyment. 

How are we ever satisfied with something less. 

We are all forces of nature. 

To be anything less than your true nature is a dishonest compromise. 

A sacrifice of that which burns within you to fear. 

How is one to experience the truth each moment. To taste it on their tongue and breathe it in with each pass of cold air through their nostrils?

For that is the only way to live. 

The mind cowers before the heat of the thunderstorm. 

How is one to retake the position of the master. To watch as sakshi, as pure awareness how their life plays out?

There can be no attachment, no people to hold on to. 

The peaks of these truths have the names of those who must climb them written on them. 

It is pure play, pure maya - that the light of reason enjoys. 

It is what gives you the shakti, the dynamic principle. That which fills you with life in each activity of your day. 

To touch that and play with each contour of its being, requires an emptiness that will scare away and burn to ashes each person that is not sincere in their presence. 

Presence is the prayer. 

A prayer to open the deepest darkest chambers of this treasure trove of experience. 

The fatiguing climb may only be made by the few. Fewer still come back.