A life is a journey. places, time, people, events all move past. we participate in all of these. various stages pass by.
We like certain places. We like certain people. We associate with them all. When we are near we are happy, when we are far, it seems to hurt. All experiences are just observations. though there is a complex series of interactions in this world, if we break it down to the ultimate then all we see is we are simple passive observers.
When I question about the world, and the things in it, and the source of happiness, I discover I am at the center of it all. All things are in relation with me. and this happiness is a property or the very nature of me, which I get in touch with with the aid of various things. I wrongly associate happiness with these tools as the source.
When I move from one place to another, it is not quite clear if the place or the world is moving or I am moving. all that can be said is there is relative movement. a mere change of scene. a change in perception. all are just experiences. when I laugh, when I cry, if I don't associate with the emotion, I can see I am not those emotions. events in the world make me emote. these are mere thoughts rising. sometimes there is a violent stream of thoughts. sometimes there is serenity. sometimes thoughts rush by almost knocking me down. But whatever it may be, I am clear I am not those thoughts. I am simply observing them.
The body is also a thought. its actions again are simple perceptions.
When I see myself reading a book, as I break it down into finer details, the books and the words and my sight and all the thoughts melt away into nothingness. materially they all are atoms, in a complex sequence of interactions. It is the intelligence which assembles it all together and associates a body and object and so on and gives it a meaning.
In all of this there is a constant companion, as the world and life in it moves past in space and time, there is this one constant voice, which is absolutely the same, ever since I remember. It is always awake, always alive, always aware. It is this companion, or the self, that is at the center of everything, trying to give interpretations to a world that presents itself and constantly changing.
This I is the one which interprets the experiences and observations. It is the one which gives reality to an endless random flux of matter and energy.
As things, places, people and time pass by, the one which paints this picture and is the source of all that was, all that is, and all that will be,is always with me.
The moment I realize this truth, I am free, I am liberated. I enjoy the beauty and mystery of this amazing illusion, which is pure magic that is painted on an infinitely large canvas.
We like certain places. We like certain people. We associate with them all. When we are near we are happy, when we are far, it seems to hurt. All experiences are just observations. though there is a complex series of interactions in this world, if we break it down to the ultimate then all we see is we are simple passive observers.
When I question about the world, and the things in it, and the source of happiness, I discover I am at the center of it all. All things are in relation with me. and this happiness is a property or the very nature of me, which I get in touch with with the aid of various things. I wrongly associate happiness with these tools as the source.
When I move from one place to another, it is not quite clear if the place or the world is moving or I am moving. all that can be said is there is relative movement. a mere change of scene. a change in perception. all are just experiences. when I laugh, when I cry, if I don't associate with the emotion, I can see I am not those emotions. events in the world make me emote. these are mere thoughts rising. sometimes there is a violent stream of thoughts. sometimes there is serenity. sometimes thoughts rush by almost knocking me down. But whatever it may be, I am clear I am not those thoughts. I am simply observing them.
The body is also a thought. its actions again are simple perceptions.
When I see myself reading a book, as I break it down into finer details, the books and the words and my sight and all the thoughts melt away into nothingness. materially they all are atoms, in a complex sequence of interactions. It is the intelligence which assembles it all together and associates a body and object and so on and gives it a meaning.
In all of this there is a constant companion, as the world and life in it moves past in space and time, there is this one constant voice, which is absolutely the same, ever since I remember. It is always awake, always alive, always aware. It is this companion, or the self, that is at the center of everything, trying to give interpretations to a world that presents itself and constantly changing.
This I is the one which interprets the experiences and observations. It is the one which gives reality to an endless random flux of matter and energy.
As things, places, people and time pass by, the one which paints this picture and is the source of all that was, all that is, and all that will be,is always with me.
The moment I realize this truth, I am free, I am liberated. I enjoy the beauty and mystery of this amazing illusion, which is pure magic that is painted on an infinitely large canvas.
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