My boat has been sailing too long,
Alas! Far too long.
I have been floating on cosmic waters.
The shore hasn’t been reached!
Alas! The shore!
With every passing day: the yearning consumes me more!
With every drop of nectar,
Sweet sublime beauty,
The thirst becomes more.
My boat on cosmic waters,
Hasn’t reached the shore!
It’s already too late!
Day and night,
I drink ambrosia,
Dripping from the bosom of the lady divine;
Who dances blissfully in my heart,
This golden dance is genuine experience known as enlightenment,
When it reveals itself,
The ego is subdued by the bliss,
It’s like reading a book of bliss forever!
My significant other is
The mystic dancer,
It has no other!
It’s the only one.
It’s the blissful experience,
Agent; experiencing and its result,
It’s an eternal mystery.
Unresolved,
Ineffable,
Fathomless,
There’s nothing which transcends it.
Though it’s true;
I long for this human journey to end,
With greater and greater intensity,
Every passing day–
The mystical search ends
When the unique dancer
Reveals itself in your heart.
It’s then:
You taste delicious ambrosia.
This mystic dancer has enslaved me!
I think only about it,
I talk only about it,
I long only for this union,
It tastes sweet, sounds sweet, feels sweet;
This ancient dancer is limitless,
It dances in the golden hall of gnosis,
It is ambrosia,
It’s Immortality,
It’s clarity,
It doesn’t judge,
It’s all goodness,
It’s bliss.
It’s love.
The mystic dance,
Mixing with every cell,
Blasts in bliss,
It’s without a beginning or an end.
It’s beyond everything and yet
Knower of all.
It doesn’t judge you for your rank
Because compared to it everything is limited-no matter how exalted it seems.
It’s neither one nor many because it’s the only thing,
It knows no other.
To this bliss : every being belongs.
Towards this bliss: every being strives
To this bliss every being returns,
Eventually.
1. I have begun the third iteration of registering books in library.
2. Took some time to read Vinoba Bhaave’s commentary on Vedas.
3. Last few days have been interesting self discovery.
4. This mystic dance which fills every inch of space within and without is my sole object of study and search now. It’s musical and it’s sweet like nectar. It’s a conscious living presence. In fact: all living presence emanates from it.
5. The mystic dance is the player who does and undoes and yet it’s not a doer. It’s beyond human perception as far as its comprehension is concerned.
6. When it reveals itself as your innermost core of being: it takes away your ego structures. Your belief in your identity is turned upside down. Either thoughts or this takes your attention. The more it takes your attention: thoughts begin to reduce. This reveals itself as a vibrant field which eliminates all unwanted thoughts and ideas.
7. In that sense: even the most holy thoughts are thrown out of your system. Deleted. Forgotten. You can’t comprehend it until it happens. When it happens: you wonder whether it was really you who believed in those things.
8. Identities are make-believe ego structures. We assume certain roles and responsibilities and often make them our lives. When touch with pure unfettered consciousness is lost the reality asserts itself and it often seems like great suffering. Then you begin to drop those assumed roles and responsibilities: it’s interpreted as returning towards simplicity. It’s reality of pure being in action.
The supreme beauty
Has no form!
The supreme dance,
Has no movements,
The supreme music,
Has no notes!
Wonder of wonders!
It picks its subjects at random,
Makes them feel like it does,
And they sing songs mystified about,
Its nature and grace,
Since they know,
In a world which only gives one,
What’s deserved,
It’s only this grace which,
Gives insuperable beatitude and bliss,
It’s a strange thing,
This dancer is unfathomable!
Oh supreme dancer,
Where art thou feet?
Head, face and eyes?
All heads are your heads,
All faces your faces,
And all feet are your feet!
Oh supreme damsel,
What can I sing about your ineffable beauty supreme?
Words return,
From the threshold of your shrine,
With silent dazed faces,
The form of your presence,
Consumes all forms!
The music created by your tapping feet consumes all music!
Are you formless or with form?
Are you musical or without sound?
It is a mystery hitherto.
You’re the supreme taste,
And supreme grace–
Is there any doubt about it?
My beloved,
Is truth,
Freedom,
And bliss!
Her dancing feet,
Know no rest,
They produce the most sublime music,
Which is resounding in my being.
Am I a moth in the flame?
Or flame in a moth?
Or both?
The same,
A form and a name,
A game,
As the moth,
I am burning with bliss,
Can’t wait this eon of mothship to sink,
In the blink of cosmic eye,
Can’t be truly a moth,
Or even a semi awakened flame,
As the flame,
It’s merely a speck,
Now it was,
Now it’s not,
And yet :
To the dream which is neither moth,
Nor the flame,
A mysterious dame,
The song seems blissful.
It’s a great mystery.
It’s the only experience,
Which uses all senses together;
It’s seen as magnificent dance made of jewels,
It’s heard as divine melody consisting of variegated instruments,
It’s tasted as ambrosia,
A sublime honey,
And felt throughout the body as divine mingling with mundane,
Making it divine,
It also has the fragrance,
Akin to camphor,
Soothing bliss completely unique experience which has no parallel.
And it’s one entity continuous without breaks in generating experience for different senses,
It happens all at once,
And interpreted in parts.
A unique experience of fruition.
You’re ambrosia!
Seeing you ambrosia.
Inside me ambrosia,
And outside me ambrosia;
Your touch is bliss,
Your taste exquisite,
Feeling you ambrosia.
Dancing light of grace 