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Wednesday, May 11, 2011

The Rebellion.

They said I would be free, the social hierarchy build around me was to protect me. They said I would be happy, building away ambitiously on the wall that would be my shelter, a cocoon. They said fear not, embrace the little space in this cocoon, I weaved with all the strands of paths they gave me – the education they imparted, the values they instilled, the glories they sung about- I built a smooth, impenetrable cocoon around me. They provided me with all the answers, unquestioned by my peers. They drowned me in faith and hope. They whispered softly into my ears, “This is life”, they taught me to fear death. They spoiled me with gifts, they sold. They treated me with juicy morsels of dreams, desires and destiny. Then they smothered me with praises of my uniqueness. I was a special cog they said, without which the great great machinery that drives this world ceases to function, can never attain its destiny. I was important, my greatness emphasized with each delicious titbit's they threw at me. I knew the answer to the question they gave me-
“Who am I?”

Then I woke up, from coma stretching from the horizons of past to the edges of the future. My silent screams tearing every stratum of my perception. I could sense every last living breathe of lost ideas. My eyes adjusting to the the bright blinding lights they shined on me. Then I realized the question that mattered to me-
“What am I?”

What am I ,but an idea trapped in a this mortal flesh and bones. What am I, but an idea created by my family, appended upon society, and confirmed by my 'I'. What I am but a arrogant egoistical idea prisoned in the ignorant cocoons of society. As I shed of layers of enforced social stigmata from my 'I', as I rip apart the myth of time from my thinking machinery, as I realize the sun , the moon or the stars will never know my existence, never know an idea that is 'I' ever existed, I yearn to be more, more that the idea trapped in these mortal coils of stagnant, de-evolving self. The realization is enough, enough for me to relax my eyes, to see beyond the white burning lights of lies. I see the soft, fragrant ridges of euphoria. There is more than 'I' know. The pseudo 'I' slowly evaporating away, the flesh and bones confining this 'I',slowly meaning nothing. The vain desires, searching for acceptance and glory for this fleshy cell in this social prison, meaning less and less every passing moment. Now its different. What I am, but eternity, that exists even in nothing, even in the inconceivable ex animate before creation. What I am but a wisp of nothing seeping into the imagination of gods.

Death was the easiest and most efficient conspiracy 'They' created. Death was to be scared, they said, a brewing potion of guilt, fear and inevitability they made us drink after our birth. They said we die of diseases, we die of violence, we die of old age. We all die I say, from the moment of our birth in to this cocoon of flesh and bones we are dying, we are not living but dying, Our initiation was by birth,into this inevitable conclusion of flesh and bones that is death. We don't live, we only are dying, maybe death is our initiation to living, to what creation meant to be life, the ecstatic and eternal. The poisoned self ,spewing out of these mortal binds of material and earth, now pure into freedom. The final mutiny of the polluted 'I', to the freedom of sense-lessness. The metamorphosis from the ugly, from the unimportant, from the mortal 'I' to an intriguing new beautiful possibility only by death. The possibilities undeniable, the wonders unrealized, we spent a servitude, unwilling to risk to look into thyself, to free us from the invisible coils of self bondage, the chains of social bondage, the tortures instruments of self denial. We refuse to turn our eyes from the glossy colorful exterior, and look into ourselves, to understand for every of this moment that is inevitable, we create a whole new experience in our awareness and self realization.

The pseudo 'I', burdening my eyes from gazing my inner self, playing games and placing logical and preconditioned obstacles to disrupt any attempt. But the determination of great teachers have already paved a path over these hellish landscapes, with their self sacrifice and unbounded grace. All it takes for me is a battle, a battle against the angels of deception, at the dawn of the apocalypse of senses, when the egoistical 'I' brushes with a judgment day, consecrated to reality by the worshipers of the false- 'They”. But the imaginative, is already set loose, the voices are just an echo of a song, drummed out of the great drums of my war machine against this unnatural servitude. 'They' scamper in confusion, throwing dirt and impotent feces at my cocoon they helped built, where I dance in euphoria, floating blissfully as in mother's womb. Don't they realize that it's too late, my victory was destined,
The very moment my consciousness rebelled.

1 comment:

Laila said...

Felt like a long and metaphorical suicide note.