my musings

Our sweetest songs are those that tell us of the saddest thoughts. Fantastic! However, it is better to recall that every flower enjoys the air it breathes. It has been years since a few blokes last felt the soulful bliss. What followed thereafter was ennui?
Levin in Anna Karenina pondered whether we just live for the sake of belly. His belly was full by dint of legacy. So is it with most of us, which gives us time and space to think of the Godhead. The literature is endless. But it rarely provides the divine insight that is so naturally and obliviously present in a simpleton. Are we caught in a time warp?
There have been persistent efforts by all to get closer to the divine. It mostly takes us away from it. Few say love is worship. Few say work is worship and so on and so forth. To an idle adult this exploration is not essentially a quest but an escape route. Does the confession of this crime bring levity to soul? Few hope it does!
The luxurious quest for the divine is an anomaly. And the idleness has so viciously established its foothold in the prodigal but indolent spirit that a sabbatical is only a farce. The mental age is a deterrent. The fascination of a Yogic state holds true but the path is extremely difficult. The seasons immediately revolt and uproot the determined psyche. It is not only the ephemeral flower that wilts away awaiting or even completing the blossoming phase. The spirit fades into oblivion even when the body is living its sad course. To worsen the idleness there is a conflict between optimism and pessimism in which the latter rules the roost. Osho says that man is basically optimistic by nature. The belief that there will be the next breath is optimism per se. Life goes on with optimism. But it is true for the real life. What about the ‘plastic’ life?
What enormous strength is required to remain dispassionate amidst the whirlpool of plasticity all set to devour the human soul! Plasticity of this kind detests the freedom of human soul. And it is a monster few can escape.
Work keeps the soul away from many overwhelming confusions, which afflict the idle ones more. The confession has assuaged the injured consciousness a bit.
When one thinks of work, myriad images get conjured up in mind and one gets lost in the labyrinth of hierarchy. Someone else holds the reign and we are made a puppet of certain antiquated norms. They are antiquated because they can seldom rise above the lethargy of status quo. What gets lost in the process is the ‘I’ in one. It sounds contradictory when one says that there are so many layers of ‘I’ that even that is the genesis of labyrinth of ego. However, the latter one is destructive in nature as is based on the dead pattern of conformity. The former is constructive as it evolves from creativity. Both reside within the same soul and therefore create a confusion of likeness whereas they are poles apart.
Within a soul the latter exists parasitically at the expense of the former and the soul is led to believe that both are indispensable to each other. The difference is more palpable when there are moments of love and it seems that latter has vanished and the former has acquired even the better but morphed aspect of the latter-that of creative submission. This creative submission is different from servile conformity.
Love is the mother of all emotions. Even the painful longings have a ‘yogic’ detachment from the materialistic desires. This is the microcosm of the pinnacle of bliss- that of getting united with the divine. The divine flashes to give a glimpse. Thereafter the soul forgets the flash and complains that there is no sign from the divine despite persistent efforts to seek union with Him.