Independent life is a real/true demand of our conscience. A frivolous life, though is just a fleeting rendition of our mind. The projection is so strong that it takes away all our resolutions in a tide. It happens when our mind is not accompanied by true intellect. But in all this turbulence, our ‘self’ suffers. As our mind, body & intellect function in the reign of ‘self’ & with its power. Like the moon doesn’t have its own light, yet it shines in the domain of Sun. Sun remains unaffected. But unlike sun we assume ourselves to be mind or body & hence the ‘suffering’. Without our ‘self’ the mind cant exist & the body will be lifeless. Intellect is the tool of the ‘self’ to operate mind & body in order to function in this virtual world.
Our mind actually is self sufficient but we don’t accept or realize. All incidences, joy & sorrow, happened & dissolve, but our mind derives the pain & pleasure by wandering in their memories.
But then our aspirations & apprehensions are also such wanderings. Yet, without any physical incidence, they give zeal or anxiety.
So summing up, our mind projects everything. It has very little to do with reality. Reality is how we perceive it, it doesn’t have its own identity.
Just discover your ‘idleness’
The biggest irony is that the woes of life actually bring us closer to our ‘self’. Our mind regains strength with that but we let it waste again in trivial pursuits. Our mind’s true nature is constant change & excitement, though the body calls for an established pattern with minimal variation else it gets disturbed. This conflict leads us to being exhausted.
They both are being true to their nature but we aren’t. We are governed by them, instead of opposite.
Its been so long, lets go back home where we are always our 'self’ free of paradox, misery, conflicts battles & struggles. Only love, peace & bliss prevails & spreads.
मुश्किल है ज़बस कलाम मेरा, ऐ दिल. सुन सुन के उसे सुखंवरान-ए कामिल. आसान कहने की करते हैं फरमाइश. गोयाम मुश्किल, वगरना गोयाम मुश्किल . True, though, o heart, is my writing, redoubtable people hear me again & again and request me to use simpler language. What I say is complicated, What I write is complicated.
Welcome a-bored
आते हैं गैब से यह मज़ामी ख़याल में,
ग़ालिब सरीर-ए-खामा नवाए सुरोश है
These thoughts that I commit to words come straight from the unknown,
The susurrus my quill doth make, is in fact the angel who spake.
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