Sunday, June 21, 2015

The Boy, The Man (Long Version) [Poem]

He grew up in a world of softness.
Every want was devotedly satisfied,
every pain urgently healed,
every vice swiftly forgiven.

He became an unnatural thing:
a little boy inside the body of a growing man.

He knew he had the best of all possible burdens.
And he was grateful,
though he was spiritually disfigured.

Within him grew a longing
to be purged of all that is soft!
He craved discipline and danger,
for how can one rise to greatness,
in a world of ease and fairness?

This tension cannot last much longer!

The Boy or The Man:
one of them
must
DIE!

He left home!
Even as it tearfully clung to him.
He went venturing into strange lands,
seeking foes and ordeals menacing enough
to make him strong.

He used to think:
all great frontiers have already been conquered,
so what use is there of tenacity and courage?
But in that strange land he discovered:
The great frontier is ever-new.

He entered the world of trials,
He had to deny wants.
He had to withstand pain,
he had to overcome vice.

He was becoming the man he would be proud to be.

He knew he had the best of all possible blessings.
And he was grateful.

























The Boy, The Man (Short Version) [Poem]

He grew up in a world of softness.

He became an unnatural thing:
a little boy inside the body of a growing man.

He knew he had the best of all possible burdens.
And he was grateful,
though he was spiritually disfigured.

Within him grew a longing
to be purged of all that is soft!

This tension cannot last much longer!

The Boy or The Man:
one of them
must
DIE!

He left home!
Seeking foes and ordeals menacing enough
to make him strong.

But
He thought:
"all great frontiers have already been conquered,
so what use is there of tenacity and courage?" 

But
in that strange land he discovered:
The great frontier is ever-new. 

He entered the world of trials.

He was becoming the man he would be proud to be.

He knew he had the best of all possible blessings,
And he was grateful.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Human Becomings [Poem]

What is a human being?
Do you understand what goes on
between your ears, behind your eyes?

We are a cacophony of desirous voices,
each of them trying to shout above the others
to get itself fulfilled.
Have you ever taken the time to hear them?
Those myriad wantings,
each one calling itself "I"?

This one says:
"I want to express my vicious strength!!
Crush, Kill, Maim, Burn, Slice!
And is there anyone strong enough to return the favour?!"
In today's world one rarely listens to this violent "I".
It would be impolite. But sometimes he gets out of his cage.

This one says:
"My too-too tender heart is covered with scars,
each one deep, incurable, and horribly unjust"
says the I of melancholia.

This one says:
"I want to climb the highest peaks!
Where is the trial strenuous enough to purge me of my weakness?!
And who will lavish me with gold and glory when I am victorious?"
says that ambitious I.

This one says:
"Every inch of my skin desires to be touched!
Ah! This physical body was made for ecstasy.
More explosive pleasures! More, more!"
says the I of lust.

This one says:
"Oh, my heart is overflowing with sweetness!
Here, stranger! Here, friend!
Have some of this kindness and love.
There is enough for all!"
says the well-praised I of kindness.

This one says:
"Shiny toys, rare books, golden coins..
I hardly have enough space for it all!
Well then! I will just need more space!"
says the I of greed.

This one says:
"Everything in this world is a weight too heavy
for me to carry. Why should I even bother,
when this bed is so so comfy and warm?"
says the I of laziness.

This one says:
"This world! So much mystery!
I would need six eyes and three brains,
to learn everything I want to know!
Where is a great teacher who will fill my thirsty mind with knowledge?"
says that curious I.

What we call "self" is merely
the temporary compromise
between these innumerable longings.
"Self" is always subject to change,
and "Personality" is simply a set of habits.

You see,
The phrase "human being" is false.
We are not "human beings",
for the word "being" implies fixedness,
of which there is none in us!
The self is a turbulent river-
always changing relentlessly.

We are "human becomings"
for we are not the same person year by year
or day by day
or even from one moment to the next.

But there is more to us than this.
Deep within -
hidden by body, thoughts, emotions, and "I" ' s,
is the soul.

Just as space contains all,
but is itself unaffected by the thing it contains,
so too does the soul
contain your sensations, your past, your moods,
but is itself eternally unchanged by these things.

What you call your self is the weather,
and what is known as the Soul is the sky.
Aum.

If one could feel one's "I" to be located here,
in the soul,
then one could for the first time in their entire lives
be a human being
instead of a human becoming.
Aum.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Life is [Poem]

For the pure, life is blissful! 

For the child, life is a game. 

Life is a contest for the strong!

Life is an adventure for the brave! 

It is a performance for the theatric, 

and a mystery for the knowledgeable.

Life is a song for those who love. 

And for the wise,

Life is merely a dream. 

Aum.