The Traces of My Beloved

My Beloved has come again,

I am light again, light as a feather whirling in the gravity of my Eternal Beloved;

My heart beats again on hearing the familiar echo of Her footsteps;

She is near and the smell of Her colorful perfume is throwing me in ecstasy again;

Tonight She has approached me from a direction unbeknownst to this world;

She has returned from a point at once infinitely far and infinitely near.

My Beloved has come again,

I have beheld those dark, bottomless eyes, the eyes that steal the hearts forever;

With borrowed eyes I have gazed into the abyss of infinite love;

I have been absorbed into Her Prakriti,

Oh my Love, this heart knows no master but You;

By your grace I have been humbled into that blessed Oblivion but this time I like to be that playful child in the shore of your boundless beauty; my Beloved, let us just play.

This wavering raft can’t withstand even a glimpse of Your blinding face, so let this affair be as it is from behind the Veil of Time; let me be soaked in Your majestic traces but gaze not in my direction, for Your piercing stare shatters me to the bone.

My Beloved has come again,

I am overcome by this fountain of joy; I am Majnoon tonight;

Tonight I am transformed into Her harp again; Oh my Beloved, let Your fingers wound the lifeless fibers of my spirit so that I may sing again the songs of heart’s eternal Eden

Oh, the Hidden Treasure, the Animator, The Possessor of my states, how beautiful is your sound and sight! How intoxicating is Your merciful breath to a heart in spiritual poverty!

Water finds the thirsty, rain finds the crop; abundance seeks scarcity and scarcity abundance,

But my Beloved! I am not thirsty, neither lacking; I am thirst itself. So my Love, come my way, because my union with You is in my annihilation in You,

But devour me not; let me gracefully and slowly dance my way into your Supreme Sakina

Oh, My Beloved has come again

Grace, Jokes, and Shower Confessions

This is a story of a humble religious experience, of how the Almighty graced and saved me in a stormy day.

The other day I had a pretty rough morning at the university, the burden of projects and things not working, and especially the spiritual turbulence of the week.  While driving back home the mini-storm of thoughts in the mind underwent a butterfly effect and created a tornado of negative thoughts about the rough year, made it into a rough life, and then into a rough existence. The spiritual imbalance was the most unbearable part of these days. I started intensely praying to God, begging him to calm this mind down, to tell me that everything is ok.

Disclaimer: Yes, I do comfortably refer to God as a He, simply because I like it. Though in principle the Godhead transcends gender, I don’t hide the fact that I perceive God as the masculine aspect of the Godhead while I perceive nature, the manifestation, as the feminine aspect of the Godhead. I have heard rumors that some people of no occupation but preoccupation with gender have actually bothered to invent a name for a person who uses a masculine pronoun for God; I think it’s called “sexist.” I personally like the name; it makes me feel naughty. Besides, I am just happy to see that employment opportunities are rising for people obsessed with gender and linguistics.

Back to my tornado: So as I was driving I was intensely praying for some spiritual guidance, some sign. I must add that I am a proudly religious person; but my relationship with God is mostly a purely intellectual/metaphysical relationship with the impersonal Godhead, the absolute truth or the transcendent principle. I chose this kind of relationship because it chose me; I have the essential temperament of what Hindus call a Jnani, a practitioner of the path of knowledge. The personal God of religion with its symbolic narratives of creation and destruction doesn’t interest me; in general the outward form of religion doesn’t speak to me. This being the said, I am still a human and like everyone else I am blessed with the three faculties of will, intelligent, and sentiment. Deep down I have a very strong sentimental aspect that I have been systematically suppressing by the force of mathematics and philosophy. Why? Because when I was 9 I had a small chicken (I love love love animals) that got sick and died only a week after I’d bought it. I was devastated since I was emotionally very attached to it. I couldn’t stop crying but I stopped eating and couldn’t sleep. I buried it in the yard and put a cross on the burial site (lol, we weren’t Christian and I didn’t even know what a cross meant but I had seen it done in western movies and just assumed that’s what modern people do, put a cross on the grave, so I thought it was cool.) Due to devoted mourning I couldn’t go to school and instead spent day and night next to the burial crying. The gross part was that many time during each day I would dig the soil, take out its body and kiss it while crying; the ants were crawling over it but I couldn’t part ways. I suffered a deep, wounding suffering. That mourning drama lasted for a few weeks until the corpse was almost gone. My soul was tormented for weeks and I still remember the pain vividly. After that incident, which was partly responsible for driving me into philosophy, I learned the lesson, that attachment is the last thing I want in this world. As a result I decided to do physics, mathematics, and philosophy and exclude myself from attention and attachment to all things organic and their conditions. But even now seeing an animal hurt or seeing the pain of others makes me suffer deeply as if it were my own suffering. So I am in a way very sentimental but I have managed to keep the volcano under some control most of the times. Please excuse the digressions.

So under the pressure of my sentimental aspect I sometimes wish I could also have a personal relationship with God, to love him, to adore him, to be just like a little child in His presence. I had heard stories from mystics and even normal religious people who loved God; yet I never understood what it means to love God, what it’s like to love God! To love a woman I get, to love an animal I get; but to love God I never got. But that day I begged for it.

That day when things became unbearable I begged God to be the good old God of Old Testament, to actually speak, to perform a miracle right then and there so I would know He is with me and I with Him. I just needed an assurance of His presence, an assurance without the need of intellectual intuition which can only perceive ontological necessity; I didn’t need to be assured of his existence of which I am absolutely certain; I didn’t need Brahman or Principle; I needed an intimate relationship with a loving and caring agency whose presence I can feel rather than think.

Anyways, the mind was going crazy and I was tearing my throat repeating the name of God. I got home and jumped in the shower with the hope of cooling down. My shower is a pretty tiny stall kind of shower; you cannot fit two people in it (not that I have tied.) As I was showering I kept repeating His name; I had read and heard from spiritual masters that repeating the name of God has a tremendous spiritual power. Though I could never understand how, I kept saying the name as I was too desperate, too human instead of metaphysician, for feeling His presence. As I was repeating the name and longing to feel God’s presence the idea of a funny but childish scenario interrupted the mental storm: The thought came to me that I cannot ask God to appear before me here; we cannot both fit in this small shower! Besides, I always perceive God as a He; being in the shower with Him would be too gay. At this point you may bite your lower lip but I mean no profanity against God; I do these small gigs in my mind which often involves God with the religious intention of making him laugh, and he doesn’t mind them if they’re a little dirty. He and I have an understanding, and he likes me as His court’s joker and personal stand-up comedian than anything else. Anyhow, this idea just put a smile on my face and distracted me from the mental tornado, but it was just the beginning; it was meant only as an opening toward a memorable grace which unfolded as following:

The idea of that scenario was replaced by a strong feeling of presence; the thought downed on me, with the intensity of a divine inspiration, that “He is the doer and the enjoyer of all things. Who do you think is moving your hands? Who do you think is moving your head? Who do you think is washing you and making your tongue repeat the holy name?!” The inspiration continued, “It is all Me: You are desperately looking for me while I am here with you; without me you can’t lift a finer; I am the one washing your body. You’re crying to feel me; I am the one bathing you.” These words touched me so deeply and made me feel something I had never felt. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I was filled with infinite joy. I leaned against the shower wall and cried like a baby as I listened again to the inspired words “I am the one bathing you.” I stroked my body and felt his strokes. I was intoxicated; the tornado was totally gone and replaced with a deep sense of serenity. I felt so light, so carefree as I had never been. I had become like a child and out of impulse started to make the noises a newborn child makes when the mother spoils him.

cute kid ready to wash himself in shower
Me after the shower

As I was drying myself with the towel I felt, and knew again, that it was still Him, drying me this time, that it has always been Him, and that it will never be anything But him. How could I feel so infinitely joyful, infinitely great and yet infinitely light, exactly the moment I denied my own existence and saw Him as all that there is, as the doer and enjoyer of all things, but this time not as a thought but as an intimately felt reality with the highest degree of certainty; I knew that he was the one making the jokes, gay or otherwise. After drying myself I danced naked around the room and then threw myself on the bed and rolled around like a child. For the first time I loved God as God, not as principle or nondual ground of all things. Yes I need the latter form of communication, the intellection, but this new feeling of intimacy with God spoke to an essential part of me that had been silenced till that day. Oh, such a great day I had and that message is still with me. Thanks God for that storm, and for all the others to come; we see the storm but in Reality it is Him trying to tell us something. That day’s experience may appear to the outsider as nothing special but for me it was a deeply felt reality, and considering the depth to which it penetrated and transformed my rigid idea of the divine it was one of the most profound religious experiences I’ve ever had.

God is good; God bless Him.

To Feel at Home While Living in The World

We as we know ourselves are the products of our own beliefs.

We as we should know ourselves are the holder of all beliefs, and hence essentially free and perfect.

This world, this human constitution and history, is nothing but a hearsay. All that is is only accepted to be.

The “I” which playfully entertains this hearsay called the world is that daydreaming God who wished it weren’t perfect and thus had something to do. Like a child who has nothing mundane to do but to imagine, the Pure Subject being pure and perfect falls into its own infinite imagination, as it were, from which experience arises.

There is only one “I” and one experience. Multiplicity is not to see the unity; it is of the nature of ignorance, like a dreaming man who sees the other as separate from himself, little knowing that the other, too, arose from the same dreaming consciousness.

To wake up to Reality, to face the truth, is not to deny the world and its existence. To be enlightened is only to be conscious of the belief-character of the world and oneself, to be aware of the fictional nature of one’s identity and being in the world. To be truthful is to know the truth; and the truth is that all this is nothing but a hearsay, and to deny it is still another hearsay. Love the other as yourself and do as you like. Look at the world as the Kingdom of Heaven, or perhaps as a free experience in Bed&Breakfast. Don’t fret over what happens, for you are not the doer; you are the supreme seers of all things, the listener to all hearsay, the spectator in the myth called human existence.

We ask futile questions such as “Where we came from?” and “Where we are going?” But we ask them precisely because we are never aware that our coming and going are themselves parts of the hearsay we have taken for granted. We keep repeating to ourselves that I had a yesterday and will have a tomorrow; but no one has ever seen a yesterday nor a tomorrow; then and there are the figments of our imagination. The myth of existence may be interesting to listen to but painful if we forget that it is just a story; however, it is not a story that we humans tell ourselves, for we humans are the events within the fiction; rather, it is a story that Consciousness repeats to itself and keeps believing and living it. In reality: We have not come from anywhere and we are not going anywhere, for there is nowhere to go and nothing to be except within the story itself. There is only the eternal now in which consciousness makes up this mythical world and objectifies itself into it as the human person. Consciousness is the master story teller; it creates experience in such a masterful way as if there were a before and an after, a here and a there, to it.

To say that “experience exists, or happens, in the world” is itself an object of experience. There is nothing outside experience, for outside something is itself a notion possible and entertained only within experience. But experience itself is not something in space or time, for space and time are defined and understood only within experience. It is in this sense that the Pure Subject, the sole subject of experience, our true Self, has not come from anywhere and is going nowhere; it is immortal and ever present, for it is presence itself. It is not that it endures forever, for it is outside time and all endurance; it is ever free from all bondage, for it is the very condition and Ground of all spatiotemporal possibilities.

Each “I” experienced in the world is a ray emanating from the One Pure Subject. Failing to directly perceive this Subject we think there are many egos, but once we perform that Sacred Rite of Passage which wakes us up we will be instantly reduced to that Pure Subject; such Reduction is the natural aftermath of the extinction of ego. Again, it is not that we become or fall into the Pure Subject; we are It and we have never been other than It; we had only forgotten our identity.

Upon dying to the ego we find ourselves at the very edge of Pure Experience, in the absolute void; we witness for the first time, in shock and bewilderment, the birth of the world which is a continual event at whose horizon we have been standing from eternity to eternity, for we are the Sole Dweller of The Void. Then and only then we truly see that we are the very goal, the very end, the very point of Being and Nothingness.