Postcards from London

It is strange how the world is turning into a global village. With ever growing stronger communication systems and sophesticated connections, no city ever seems distant. No culture ever seems strange.

Having said so, the charms of meeting a city face to face yet remains. Its fascinating how each mundane road - which is otherwise taken by many of its inhabitants on daily basis seems so different to its new visitors.

Standing here in the capital of Worldly Time, while the world drives by at its speed, the globe rotates its axis. London greets. Stubborn to international aggressive architectural evolution, secure in sticking to bearing resemblance to its 1970s literary descriptions. Amid all this, gazing into its charms, you're left wondering. How does it manage to absorb so many cultures, people, faith, religions.

I am awestruck. Not just by its maturity and natural wonders, but also with its remarkable beauty of religious, civic and cultural tolerance.

It still has roads which people trust. It still has instructions which people follow.

Rationality suspended.

And while you were busy asking for His Love, His Nearness, His Understanding, there stumbled upon an experience. An experience that you never thought you'd go through, a sight you never imagined you'd confront. A situation you never realized you'd be in. A feeling you had never felt. A feeling you that you didn't even know had ever existed.

Strangely, it was not Him. You resisted it. You fought it. You denied it. You stayed silent against the force with which the experience overpowered your ability to comprehend. To make sense. To give words to what it was. Still is.

Rationality suspended. All modes of expression mute. Inability to express suddenly seeming frustrating yet satisfying. You plan to run away. From the soul that has been touched within you. From the awareness that you now hold knowledge of. It is like, being given a responsibility to rationally handle something you can't even comprehend. Something you were not exactly even looking for.

And through this experience, you became aware. Aware of that very point where you currently stand. That very point where your will ends. And His start. Where He takes charge. Point where you realize how poor you are. Point where you despite being the richest, are still the poorest. The one seemingly at loss.

The point where you desperately want to regain your confidence in time. The point where you want to go back and live with the masses, believing and following their mundane definition of time. The point where you want to strengthen your grip on Now while the experience is forcing you to run into the future.

You keep questioning. You still do. Whys. All sorts of them. You were never on this path. You never asked for it. But then, you realize.

A teacher often pauses his Lesson. And gives another tougher lesson, A side lesson. He says, this side lesson is imperative. Without this side concept, you will not be able to learn the Original Lesson properly.

He often pauses. And gives you an assignment. To teach you a skill. A skill He says you'd need to Reach Him more comfortably.

You ask. Which skill. Which side lesson.

He says, the Skill of wanting. The skill of feeling the Thirst. The skill of bearing patiently yet yearning with that vacuum.

For how could you claim to walk on the path of Love, if you haven't even experienced the way of love.

Realization

Is it possible to realize the failure of realization itself?

What is realization? What do we mean when we say Realize?

Is it a feeling? An emotion? How is it depicted? Through our actions? If so, is realization of one thing an ignorance of another?

What is the opposite of Realization?

Is realization evolving? Do we need to realize each moment?

But realize what? Is it doing justice to the moment? Giving it its due attention? Is that realization?

And if that is realization, how do we cope up with each moment demanding its justice, its realization?

Is our internal pressure that we exert on ourselves to realize..does it stem from our fear of regrets? 

Is realization in our own hands? Can we practice free will to realize something ourselves?

What if we realize our failure to honor a few things? 

But then again, what is realization. 

Dear Pain

Dear Pain,

You're not ugly. You're in fact quite beautiful. I love the way you appear as a smile on that street kid's face. I admire the way you stay silent to avoid unimportant chatter. I like the way you pick yourself up, bit by bit and walk away from the crowd gathered around you. I adore the elegance of your calculated talk amidst glaring eyes.

I praise the sensitivity with which you appear insensitive. I respect your acceptance of brutal reality and your habit of staying brutally honest. I treasure the way you slowly close and open your eyes to growing questions around you. I marvel at the way you heal the world. I wonder at the way you hold our heads and make us see the sufferings of the world around. I cherish the way you've taught me the difference between pain and sadness. Its hopeful the way you say,"just a bit more, and you'd be fine." You make us believe in how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly.

I love the way you stay. I love you. For you teach us what absolutely nothing else can. If it wasn't for you, I would not have known Happiness.If it wasn't for you, I would not have looked around in the world and felt.

Always your student,
Just another human.