Glimpses of Life Amidst This Incessant Drive of Death - 1: May 2
06/29/2005 12:38 a.m.

I watched my self drinking water, but failed to see how and when I picked up the glass and filled it. In a way, I did see, though hazily like when you drive at faster pace as in a dream where one is on a different time scale. This clearly indicates that TIME IS AWARENESS. The more we are one with the time, the more we are aware of time. We are aware from moment to moment. Can I fracture this moment and experience living each fraction like an hour? Theoretically, this seems possible but, yes there's a big “but,” I must first practice to live from moment to moment. There are organisms that beget, procreate, and die in one second/one minute/one hour and one day on our time scale. Are they really living one second/a minute/an hour/ a day on their time scale? They seem to be living a whole lifetime in their experience of time. For them a second/a minute/an hour and a day can be a whole lifetime, I am so convinced. I went to my nephew's room to tell him some thing that I could have told him on the intercom, but still I went. The urge to go was an urge to die. 'Kill this moment' urged my death, and this is always my death driving me meaninglessly. I wasn't aware of my going. I wasn't aware of the movements of my hands, my legs, as matter of fact I wasn't aware of anything. Now that I am back I am thinking "where was my 'I' when I went?" Yes, I was not present. I was not aware. It was like a dream walk of death. AWRENESS IS LIFE.

My legs were shaking. My shoes were beating against the floor and I (didn't???) know I was lost until I realized I was lost. What was I doing and why? Was this my death counting my moments as the life coil spring went on unwinding? I shake them again and realize it later. My "I" wasn't here who is realizing now. I stop. These are the moments of life but not intensified. I want to assemble these moments and live.

I am talking to a visitor, meaninglessly. Something I think I have already talked about either with him or with someone else, but I don't care. I keep on talking. "I don't care" is not the right expression in the absence of an 'I' since there wasn't an 'I' who could care. There can only be one 'I', an amness of BEING, the rest are slaves of death inspired and driven by death. STOP, Ashok, stop. Stop talking. Don't be scared of the vacuum that this stopping will produce. You can find life in the very space of this time. Just STOP and feel your LIFE, live AWARE of LIVING.

These moments of death can simply turn into the moments of life by your touch, by awareness of time, the synonym of life, awareness of awareness. When will I be aware? When will I intensify this awareness? I am filling up with some kind of a charge as I see and feel and sense the tip of my pen moving smoothly as I see, feel, and sense my body and mind so connected. Connected are my centers, the intellectual, the emotional, the mechanical, and the intuitive though the level isn't deep. I know the level is not deep by comparing this with my previous experiences, but still this is good and I am happy. I feel the happiness aware of my feeling of happiness. This seeing 'seeing' intensifies the impression that refines the energies twice as much as in the normal course of seeing. I know this. I hear the humming sound of this fan silencing the hum of the air conditioner. I also sense the sound of silence as my attention occupies its place somewhere in the center of my temple, unwavering. I remember some saint saying that he feels his seat is his heart. I have always found it to be my head. I can feel its heaviness. I feel its magnetic field as the pen held in my hands moves automatically at a high pace on this page. Yes, writing is the job of the mechanical center (all mechanical movements are, and I remind myself that thinking is not a mechanical act) that also provides data's from what's stored inside me in the form of impressions. My intellectual center chooses from these stored impressions and analyzes them as my emotional center refines these jottings by providing me with refined emotions and quality energies. I see poetry. What's the role of my intuitive center here, if this center is connected?

The intuitive center allows me to sense the presence and the knowledge from a different layer of awareness. The knowledge that comes to me that I am using here to verbalize. AWARENESS is definitely inter-linked with the TIME. The AWARENESS intensifies in proportion to the slowing down of TIME. The TIME will STOP if you can become one with WHAT IS. STOPPING is LIFE when the death stops chasing you. Yes, I lose the time when I am unaware because I AM my attention. Attention in the space of time is AWARENESS, I realize one more time. My my, how many jumps does my attention take in one minute? Ha! Ha! Ha! I don't think I can keep track of this because when I am not I am not and when I am, I am intact. But well, I see these jumps when I am in transition, coming and going, becoming and vanishing. My nephew was here to discuss an issue and I realized that I was jumping from one scene to another, in between returning to the scene I was, discussing this issue. I was hardly applying myself to the main issue, hardly aware of what was happening. Many of my selves must have appeared just in two minutes having associations with the thoughts that appeared associated with the thoughts that appeared and all in two minutes. I helplessly watched them in between when I was glancingly present. Helpless in my absence. What do I do? I will smoke. One of my smoking selves knocked my door many a times in the last two minutes. But, I warn myself to remain aware of smoking while smoking. Smoking has not done me good though the fact is that despite my resolve I wasn't aware of my smoking. I realized it when I felt it in my veins, in my throat, in my chest and under my skin. This feeling is not good. Yes, because I am AWRE, Yes, because I am ALIVE. This MOMENT.

I am swinging my chair, mechanically, rotating almost 90 degree's with my left leg on my right thigh, half Indian style. I continue to do so when I become aware, rotating and swinging, deriving pleasure. Not bad, when I am aware. I stop and swing. Stop again making it look as though it is intentional. Ha! Ha! Ha! I am enjoying this exercise, deriving meaning from a meaningless act. I am feeling tired. The last cigarette is still causing a bitter taste in my head. I think I need to rest for a while. How about walking down to the sofa in the corner of my room and relaxing, eyes closed, attention intact? I am going to do this. I dozed off for a while. I realized this when I woke up with a jerk when my boy opened the door and announced serving of my lunch. I am now feeling a bit rested and relaxed. I remember I was doing my breathing exercise, inhaling deep and slow. I feel good. This is so opposed to my smoking. I decide to repeat this once every two hours instead of filling my lungs with smoke, but despite feeling relaxed I feel a bit sleepy. I need to yawn, which opens up my energy accumulators. I am feeling fit now. Fit to work. I have to do so much of paper work. After having attended the stock market on line for a while, I am back in my room. I pick up a cigarette and start smoking realizing it later. I am watching myself smoking and I don't like its taste, the feeling it leaves in my chest, in my veins, I extinguish it. It's good to remain aware of smoking when you smoke, and smoke when you relish it. Awareness is life. I must not smoke if smoking doesn't add to the pleasure of life. I also decide to clean my umpteen cigarette holders and smoke half a bit when I really want to smoke. Not out of habit but for the pleasure and if I fail to derive pleasure I shall throw it out. I have rather resolved a tussle, an ongoing battle, rather than postponing it.

I am feeling tired again. I have cleared lot of papers with an intact attention. I, instead of looking at the watch, assume time, waiting for my tea to arrive. I also think in not so many words, how many more hours for the end of this working day? I feel ashamed of my self. Why do I need to wait for the day to end? Why do I want to get into another day? Why do I think that the other day would be different or better than this day? Why am I running incessantly towards my death? I hear myself shouting within at the pitch of my voice, NO! I must stick to the time, synonym of this awareness and life. I must do my best to expand this time, stretching a minute like an hour sensing every fraction of time and life. I must BE and SEE and LIVE instead of waiting for yet another day to arrive.

I am waiting for my PA to come with some account books. While waiting I find my hands playing with the telephone cords mechanically, winding and unwinding. I feel bad. It's an old habit, so idiotic, so meaningless. I resolve to try and give this up for the thousandth time. I am slightly angry for my good. My my my my, my hands are again back playing with the cord. I realize this with the realization that I wasn't and that I have smoked. I also realized that I have done two of the so many income tax returns, almost in no time and this made me happy. But then I was so aware at that time using every possible time. Yes, awareness is time and time is life. We are after all four-dimensional beings, three in space one in time but fractured. We ought to live not fractured in space and time but in this space time continuum. I also realized for the one millionth time that we ought to ignore all the thoughts which appears to carry us away and when we fail to do so, we should then get into a battle only when we are sure of the win, otherwise we should adopt to tactical retreat, not as an excuse, but as part of this long drawn battle in order to save energies rather than consuming then losing a battle. I see many of my selves knocking the doors. Better I ignore them.