The Ritual

Long before the advent of linear time, in a world divided only by night and day, I have been witnessing a world that’s hard to comprehend. Living by the sea after my stint in the Himalayas is a totally different experience. No steel to shut down my visions and the conflict of duality clear. I am starting at the dark boundless oceans night after night. The sight of thunder far away in the ocean inspires awe in me.  The world I live in is surrounded by temple priests and their peculiarly magnificent temples.

Every temple is a microcosm in its self. The inner sanctums of these temples are visited only by the high priests and people who display extraordinary psychic abilities. Their brains are monitored by these priests to extract vital electrical impulses to bring alive the God of doom. The God of doom activates the battery within humans which times the priest’s existence in this dark world.

The rest of us suffer and continue to live for ages to experience bitter feelings of jealousy, greed and hate. An idea that has got priests stuck in the inner sanctum for ages without seeing daylight is the idea of death. Hoping for redemption through death, these men of God have turned away from the world, torturing people with ability to be caged in the house of God.

Visitors to the temple often wonder, what’s happening in the inner sanctum? Only the smell of flesh and decay greet the followers of Doom. Every offering erodes grey cells in the head due to which this small town beside the sea is filled with zombie like humans. Thank God! I am an ordinary being with no gifts at all. I am of no use to the priests and have never gone inside any temple in this dark and sordid place. 

 

I see flashes of white light lighting up the sky in middle of the night and clamouring of metal inside the temple.  Some believe that the electrical impulses were stored in a machine that could transcend dimensional obstacles of our mind. The next day one sees the death ceremony of a high priest. The ceremony ends with a gigantic, bright and a semi-circular object hovering over the dead body in the sky. 

It is an object too bright to look at and has the thundering noise of a storm. The calm of this sleepy village is shaken once the ceremony of death takes place. A flash of light blinds us all before the dead body is visible no more on its platform. All that remains is the sacred metal in which the younger priests had got the dead body.

Life draws to normal after the ceremony and the thunder on the horizon a reminder of the real.  A life in metal, data inputs in the head and the electrical impulse which never dies but get stronger when the storm is over head.

Shadows

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The point of return is left far behind. The world has moved ahead leaving me in the shadows. Though, there’s no dark spot but only light. A shadow that is ashamed of itself, readily mingles with the light. It's a projection that wants to disassociate itself from its projector. My encounter with the world’s shadow is opening up roads within.

Desire for renewal always begins with a descent into darkness. Stuck behind a narrow door, I am willing to dissolve myself into something meaningful. Reality is not hidden from me and it has its own disadvantages.  To acknowledge the shadow, I will always remind myself about the futility of this universe. However, the search for meanings has always been interesting as the journey of Odysseus. 

One meets the darkest demons created by imagination. Men and women with hands tied to their knees, crying out for redemption. The path of realism has its own hidden variables. The intervention of the experimenter does have consequences at a remote end. Faustian path does not see the death of moral integrity and has its own rewards.

We are heading towards a future that will need a million Faust to put things right. There will be material changes of significant proportions but humans will still be the same, breathing down each other necks for space, looking for unfulfilled passion with the greed to harvest more. I have created a machine that’s always longing for knowledge and resurrection. Floating above the isles of sanity, an insane would become the liberator of morality. My idea transcends the visual and philosophical domain of logic and reasoning. Steel tightens my panoramic visions and a state of euphoria creeps in.

I am one with no one! The whole farce of nirvana shatters like a glass house run over by a road roller.  Going beyond the care of the dark mother, there’s only light. She will accept me no more as her child. I have failed the test and confronted her violent nature, refusing to be a part of the eternal drama. The consequence of this confrontation has blinded me to the extent that I only see myself. Everything else is just clear light and my own surreal imagination painting pictures in my sub-consciousness.  At times, nothing makes sense but ‘matter’.

Trying to delve deeper, it gets tough and my imagination begins vanishing. I have to keep it safe and hidden. It’s the only thing that makes me believe I am different, I exist!  I have given up on the world around me for good. Forms, expressions, emotions are trapped within me as I feel nothing for the outside. Demons have hijacked my thought process. Oh lord! I will not turn towards you for redemption, I deserve something better, something ethereal!  

These thoughts come to my head before the euphoria completely grasps my mind. I get a feeling, next time it’ll be heretical. It’s negative versus the positive. My mind chooses not to remain neutral.  

Truth

Truth is a product of manufactured reality. It is not a cosmic entity waiting to be discovered in the oblivion. In the end, physical reality and evidences determine truth. All my senses are used in determining the truth. Its nature agrees to the manifestation of falsehood within minutes. Therefore, it is at times considered a ‘criteria’ rather than being a metaphysical entity. Oh my God! Even my existence will be doubted as I leave no empirical evidence behind. 

Like people doubt the existence of God, they will doubt me. I am not being able to reveal the truth. All my experiences are ad hominem. They can be maligned, called fallacious and beguiling from its inception. Can I justify random visions of darker forces in nature?  Does it fall in a rational category? I don’t care, if it does or if it doesn’t. Rationality has its limits in my dictionary. Pablo Picasso had said, “Art is a lie that makes us realize the truth.” Similarly, my falsehood and quixotic self is giving the world a share of the unreal.

I am manufacturing truth that is chimeral in nature. There are creatures from the darker recesses of reality. Hell hounds and Hydras are infants when compared with creatures that pass by me daily. Elephants with scales like fish and snakes that have human hands. My mind is not questioning the reality of these beings; it sees all of it as real. Questioning the existence of these creatures will only prove the existence of a schizophrenic brain. Street lights, cars and hookers do not belong to this reality. They can be a part of reality on the 'other side.'

Walking in the woods, my thoughts are being distracted by the dominant sound of the river. People are already talking about existence in tenth dimension of reality; third and fourth dimensions are a passé. I am hearing the ‘anahata nada’ within. The sound of hourglass drums is echoing in the woods. Moonlight bathes the woods in white light and the trees form silhouette of a recognizable figure.

The figure at times is known as Lalataksha, the one with an eye on his brow. His destructive work has paved way for unimaginable creation. Suddenly, I become aware about the destructive nature of truth. Truth is the destruction of one manifested reality for the validation of the other. Destruction is the beginning of creation. Let the larger truth be destroyed for the validation of my reality.

Veil

I am surrounded by an army of griffins. All of them ready to tear me down to shreds. Prediction and prophecies are showered upon my ears. Talks about doomsday and end of time is growing louder and louder. Suddenly, I wake up and realize it’s just a dream. These days Apocalypse is one of the recurring themes in my dreams. The ‘Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse’ have already paid me a visit. It could be a disclosure of something veiled from my cognitive impulses.

Burning sky with red crowned cranes and abandoned monasteries on distant hills are recurring visions. I am convinced that these dreams were eschatological battle of my consciousness. Orgasmic feel of the moon light has taken its toll. Dawn has become depressing and futile. Everything wakes up to a weird cacophony of hoots, cackles and wails disturbing the meditative silence of night. Drawing the blinds, I returned to the labyrinth of Daedalus. Heidegger is waiting for me to explain the ‘question of being.’

Philosophy is dying, no it’s dead! It’s has disappeared in the abyss of eternity. People who dive in the abyss never recover. Howard Roark is pacing towards the edge of eternity. He is followed by monks, fakirs and selfless men. All enter the mouth of Nebuchadnezzar stopping mid- way from the edge of eternity. Damn! How can I see all this happen without being in the abyss? In a second, I am staring at ‘Black Paintings’ executed by Goya. 

Sitting in the ‘House of the Deaf Man’ staring at Atropos, the inexorable goddess of fate and destiny, carrying scissors to cut the chords of life. My heart beat is slowly normalizing after the ‘divine plunge.’ Reflecting on the ‘question of being’ Heidegger is right when he says, “Being is what determines beings as beings.” I am slowly trying to understand ‘the being.’ Unable to grasp reality frustration grips my mind. The veil that’s hiding everything becomes opaque.

The armies of griffins have returned. They start nibbling on my head. I tried chasing them away but they pick me up and fling me into the ocean. Enough! I hate to be drowned. Feeling suffocated my eyes open. Thank God! I am here with creatures that look like me. I am happy with myself. The day is over and its time to look at the moon once again.

Individuation

I am hungry for knowledge and at times want to stop reading, writing or following any process that generates knowledge. Fear grips my mind with such thoughts. I want to be zapped into oblivion where there is nothing but a sense of existence. A feeling of nirvana as if I am drowning in the ocean comfortably and cannot feel anything but myself. No sensory organs are assisting me at that moment.‘I’ am rid of all emotions and feelings, after all emotions are complex psychophysiological experiences.

Is it possible for me to live with matter and not be affected by the biochemical changes taking place in it? The answer will certainly be ‘no’, the body has to age and wear out. If there is genesis, there will certainly be nemesis. My soul wants to be free from the causality of matter. ‘Cogito ergo sum’ doesn’t satisfy my idea of individuation beyond the causality of matter. I will not support Cartesian dualism. It means we are all ‘A ghost in the machine’. Thanks Gilbert Ryle! I am developing my own ‘implication threads.’

Philosophy had to go beyond the ‘philosophy of mind,’ knowledge beyond the conventions of sensory organs. Knowledge free from causality would be the purest form of knowledge. It will tell us about the genesis of causality and knowledge, a knowledge that doesn’t serve teleology. We can blame the intelligent design for restricting our knowledge, but that’s typical human nature. To expect knowledge on phenomenon beyond the grasp of human mind from the unknown is degrading. We are responsible for the creation of a totally different intelligent design. Creationism and traducianism is blasphemy for me.

Why is intelligence and knowledge created by human being called ‘artificial?’ It’s the purest form of creation man has every achieved till date, birth should also be labeled artificial. The difference is of flesh and blood ‘only.’ The basis for both the creation is material. There is no need for natural biology to conflict with human technology. People who encourage such conflicts are afraid that men will become Gods.

As time passes, the conflict is getting worse. I get up and start walking around the forest. I am wandering in the Himalayas. A place where generations have come looking for enlightenment. Liberation from the material self is their sole objective, unfortunately, my intent is different. I am here to seek and not to be lost. The sole purpose is to push the limits of knowledge beyond the known frontier….

Duality

I am looking at dawn break puzzled by almost everything around me. My concern with gravity and the way it manages to keep us on ground has kept me awake through early hours of the morning. I wanted to see gravity like we see a flower. I am sure our mind plays tricks on us. It only shows us things that adhere to causality, but gravity too adhered to causality. Parmenides perceived every change as illusionary. Everything that we see changing on a daily basis was actually not true for him. I am also assuming ‘what we see’ as falsifiable. In the end, my purpose is to see the force that keeps everything on ground. I consider it as a phenomenon that we all need to observe. It’s as important for me as sunrise over the mountains.

I am thinking that my eyes are narrowband electromagnetic wave detectors. Scientifically, we see everything because of our brains. Eyes are only a medium of delivery. But the human brain itself is situated in the dark. I am slowly beginning to believe that my God is certainly a ‘Dark Lord.’ Light is only a medium of expression of the dark lord. Light never gives birth to darkness but only kills it.

As the sun rose over the mountains pushing darkness back, my idea was getting more lucid. First, there has to be darkness and then light follows. The larger universe is replicated in our own bodies. Therefore, we see only when light reaches the dark hemisphere of our brains as electromagnetic impulses.

Gravity can be ascribed to spacetime curvature rather than force. Space a three dimensional entity and time playing the role of the fourth dimension.  Gravity is also interacting with dark matter and therefore acquiring nature of the dark matter itself. Our eyes will never see things in the dark, it can only see light, the illusion that we are all aware of. I am sure that my brains are not inferior to any other intelligent being.

Energy itself is a dark substance, the energy we humans are used to seeing like tube light and daylight, is a medium of expression of the energy which is much darker in nature. There is the eternal conflict between light and dark as we all knew as children. No one ever told us, darkness is the mother of all lights. Gravity will never be seen like sunlight.  My mind did not believe what I had just thought about. It needs another round of questioning. Therefore, I close my eyes....

Melancholia

 

I am fascinated with the concept of death, war and conquest. I believe death and war bring permanent changes in this world. Conquest follows a slightly different logic but gives the same result in the end- ‘the change’. Death is the termination of the biological functions of a living being, war a phenomenon of organized violent conflict and conquest a linear scaling concept. All the phenomenon mentioned above have a physical reality. I doubt whether their physical attributes would affect me now.

My war has no physical attributes and there are no battlefields. I am the conqueror with nothing left to conquer. All that left is not worth changing. War will never reach me in this hostile terrain. I am already the conqueror of everything that I see. Without any humans all theories will die their own death. I am living to see them all die slowly.

Dreams of apocalypse, death and rebirth keep occurring in my day to day life. I have never questioned such phenomenon, but I need to now. The war has begun and death follows each discovery. I am convinced about conquering death and becoming a conqueror. The war within has already made me victorious. As a child, I was taught to be a winner. I still think, ‘what have I won?’ I am simply existing and making life interesting for myself. There was no ‘real change’ and never will be.  The idea terrifies me to the core.


It’s not the Oracle, Morpheus or Plato’s ‘Allegory of the Cave’ that have influenced my thoughts. My life will have no meaning without these questions being raised and I am doing everything in my capacity to find answers. Metamorphosis is the word that links death, war and conquest. The idea of transformation through permanent changes only is not true in my dictionary.  

                   

I am aiming for a transformation that involves no change at all. A transformation that looks beyond the stereotypical notions of change and metamorphosis is just and true. I am willing to go any extent to prove my point but there is no one left to judge in this wilderness. Its midnight and howling winds sweep across the inner valley of the Himalayas.