by Mark Ulyseas
In Gethsemane: Transcripts of a Journey www.amazon.co.in
Often circumstance forces one to reflect on one’s journey through the labyrinth of mendacity, love and hope simmering in the cauldron of Life. Why do we live like we do? And why is it that the path of least resistance is taken by many among us? Could it be that the skewered nuances of the physical world seduce us away from the metaphysical like a bitch in heat and that the momentary flicker of pleasure soon dissolves on the bed of iniquity?
Someone mailed me the other day after having read my article, Yet Another Year of Living Foolishly, with this comment , ‘It is said that we are complete; it is only our ignorance which makes us incomplete.’
Probably fear is the key for our perceived ignorance: Fear of the unknown, fear of being alone, fear of losing one’s social status, fear of being penniless and fear of living that shackles us to the block of ordinariness. So we live a life disconnected from the many inner truths that nag us on birthdays, deaths, anniversaries and festivals. It is here that religion with all the trappings of delusion sustains our festering world, lighting it up on festive occasions, and infusing a false sense of belonging to a collective consciousness. And this is all the more pervasive in Ubud, a place that has morphed into another Being. The years of constant visits by travelers have fragmented its pathways and contaminated its inner world. Whispers of emptiness are often heard where once there echoed the excited cries of children climbing trees and swimming in the river. Progress, some call it.
The sound of a coin hitting the ground draws more attention than the sylvan surroundings.
Should one weep for the past, celebrate the present or hope for a better future? None, I would say, for these are all impostors, manmade divisions that hypnotize us from the truth.
The truth lies only in the fruits of the earth…the blade of grass, a grain of rice, the pungent succulent durian and the fragrance of frangipani.
Colours, shapes and smells of the fruits of the earth are the only truth that exists.
The rest nestle in delusion.
Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om©Mark Ulyseas January 14, 2012