Skip to main content

Atom and the Universe



Picture Source: Hubble Space Telescope

Once a little dust of sand, lying in a distant river, was brought for the construction of a building. Once that building was constructed, a journalist asked that particle of dust to elaborate the truth about building. Dust had two choices; either he had to believe that he is all too pervasive a tall building which has just happened now, a newly emerged reality, or he is still a limited tiny existence, unable to understand after all, why he is a part of the grand plan of building? As he started inquiry, he couldn't consult every single atom of its universe, i.e., building. It was required to have unlimited time, which was not available in abundance. Just like science is trying to progress with a mindset of accumulative wisdom but time is very limited to fathom about all that exist. That little particle of dust had dilemma, either to approach a piecemeal and gradual examination just like outward inquiry or to approach an inward looking, but it was not possible to know every single atom of the building, perhaps before the structure of that building collapses or before the particle of dust dies. That particle of sand started to observe how he came into being. He found in himself the mixture of all the possible basic elements from which everything is made of in the Universe. Water, air, soil, fire, space, and of course he has evolutionary dimension in time. So to watch each thing in the Universe is not possible. However, watching himself as existence is itself a revelation that everything is made of me and every possible thing is a part of me. If I remain conscious about my existence not as tiny little creation, but boundless Universe itself, the division between essence or atom and little identities does vanish. Only in that situation that dust experiences timelessness and the question of becoming is just a laughable subject for him. He is already universally conscious. Why to go back in fragmented identity? He realizes that truth is not limited, separated as subject-object dichotomy. It is, in fact, the conditioning, which is the cause of identifying with ego, a fragmentary identity, for which people are fighting from millennium. Realizing that this fragmented self is a false identity, one experiences the boundless freedom. There is no longer craving for becoming a little crazy thing. Becoming is a desire possibly happens in confusion, division, and illusion. Being in the moment is the boundless energy, flowing everywhere as life. The beautiful little phenomenon makes him realize the tremendous beauty of the Universe, which is happening in him, in me, here and now. Many stars are dying and taking birth, and the Universe is just happening, expanding, and realizing its utmost happiness and sublime beauty!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

पिरोता जाऊँ एक माला ज़िन्दगी का

पढ़ता हूँ हर एक दिन एक ही पन्ना, हर दिन हज़ार ये मालूम पड़ते हैं। जबसे होश संभाला है एक ही पन्ना सवांरते आया हूँ, लोग इसे ज़िन्दगी कहते हैं। इसपे लिखे हर एक लब्ज़ जो मेरे मालूम पड़ते हैं, ना जाने कितने जुबां पे चढ़े होंगे। आज हम भी कुछ पल के लिए ही सही इसके सारथी हैं, जाने से पहले कुछ रंग मेरा भी इसपे चढ़ जाए, बस इसीलिए एक ही पन्ना बार बार पलटता रहता हूँ। हर कोई अनजाने किताब की तलाश में बाहर निकलता है, जिसका हर एक पन्ना वो ख़ुद है। जब ख़ुद के रंग को समझ ही ना पाया, तो भला इंद्रधनुषी किताब के क्या मायने हैं? अस्तित्व में ना जाने कितने पन्ने बिखरे पड़े हैं, बस एक से ही अवगत हो जाऊँ, उसके हर एक शब्द को चुनता जाऊँ, कुछ पल के लिये सही, पिरोता जाऊँ एक माला ज़िन्दगी का।

Time and Love

Time passes by Like moving in a train of thoughts Its sequence is always forward Vibrating like a cosmic dance of Shiva Time is creating and engulfing The little waves of the ocean Going where? Nobody knows Like a dream does not have a destination It is as true as any absurd play With friends of pleasure It moves like speed of light With friends of need It is felt like a moving river Allowing a little moments of thoughts Before everything becomes a history With friends of virtue Time becomes a sublime touch Soothing and healing the pain Becoming a spectator To watch the cries and follies Beauty and ugliness The rainbow of joy And an album of suffering Time touches Yet it remains aloof Like Purush is witnessing The colours of prakriti Yet remains unblemished And untouched The union of two is always mystical Their touch is a source Of creation and transformation Time is witnessing everything In its sequential movements Who is witnessing time? What is independent of the originatio...

Dreamer

Empty is mirror, Yet it reflects what is. Chit is absolute abyss, Yet it contains the existence, Like unending horizons of sky. Chit in bond with manas, Creates and witnesses, The playful dance of life. Shunyata is the absolute truth, Yet it is all of the possible worlds. Out of its voidness, World appears and disappears. Is it real or unreal? Or merely the Dream, Of all the possible dreams? If it is the case, Who is dreaming, the dreams of all? The One, the Cosmos. What if the One is also a figment of imagination? What if the world is a poetic creation? And the Poet has deployed itself, In every form of poetry? The poetry of life. What if only bhokta is bhojan? Only observer is observed? Only worshiper is worshipped? Only subject is object? All are the waves of same Ocean.