The perennial spring of imperishable sweetness is within everyone.

(Meher Baba)

It is hard to differentiate substance from mirage, when one is so thirsty, and exposed to this constant barrage of information, based on nothing more than the need to assert this point of separation, and to protect it from the intrusions of others, who challenge those fortresses of definition that we call ourselves.

Think, about this model that you and I subscribe, we are born, we grow, and we die. Those that came before us tell us their views as truths, in history, custom and tradition; they represent their fears, their conquests, their perceptions and that of their previous generations.

This whole thing that we become aware of, is described as either a valley of tears, a lost paradise, a random quantum soup, or variations thereof. I just do not know; I try to guess. I mean, I feel the pain, the longing, the confusion, but then also the joy, the beauty, the depth of the story. It is profound, sometimes overbearing, whether you are in joy or pain. But I believe that this “I” receptacle, is not ample enough to contain this explosion of being, it is like an ocean in a cup.

Yet, sometimes we spill out, and flow out of the container, and one glimpses a glimpse, and one sees the beauty of it all; the valley of tears/the tavern of joy, the lost/found paradise, the quantum/whole, all at once, all in one.

At those instants, there is intense joy mixed with sadness, a sort of mother pearl feeling, that goes beyond emotions, a wholeness, that derives its nature and encompasses all shades of this energy that surrounds us inside and outside, a unified field of longing and realization, so tightly knitted that one is the other, while none is at the same time. It is beyond understanding.

The essence of that glimpse is so simultaneous and holistic, that it is the most lovable and loving of all possible constructs, imagined or not, of the universes and beyond. It is a peek into an apparition, that fulfills itself in being.

Neither language nor thought can express this state, this energy, this dimension, this totality, this flux within the same point. There is a simplicity to its manifestation.

It is so deeply beautiful, so inebriating, that all the fabric of everything and the beyond imagined and not, is suffused with this wholeness, which is so overbearing, and mellowly impossible to comprehend, where every point is sacred, pivotal, and part and parcel of everything else!

Yes, life runs deeper, in all its atoms and molecules unbridled, and even little things like neutrinos and quarks bark, at the sole mention of control, by these egos of ours so tender. And I do not even want to tell you what is said by bigger things, like suns, galaxies, and hearts. They seem to run their own course, despite rules and regulations, and could care less about traditions, perceptions, and modern scientific consensus.

There seems to be a wild Universe, unfolding out there and inside, with hidden passions of isolated lover, a universe that laughs at our attempts to digitize moments in rigidity and construct havens of safety, in the middle of a constant change imperative.

Deep feelings, wavy as butterflies in migration towards flower nectars, bypass engineers and mystical pundits, and do spontaneous mischief, jumping all over formulas and prescriptions and unlocking love torrents. Inviting cosmic passions and dawns, to an infinite realization that surpasses all concepts of creation and God, in a love fulfillment of capriciousness.

We share our imagined rhythms of life’s doldrums, in the context of our perceptions and points of view. But we must smile, because there is a creature within us, that gurgles and lights up fires in dark watery wells, every time our daydreaming bounces, against our need to categorize in boxes of space, into classes and domains all things defined and monitored. And we wonder then, at the different moods that veil our sympathies and prevent our cascading in song.

Life unfolds relentlessly, while words exudate from our human condition, some with question marks, others with exclamatory symbols. They catch us behind corners, like thieves in inner cities, and take away our breath, steal our silence and pretend to chart for us the way to become better or different.

Our minds have become so good, at saying that they know the unknown, that we repeat and say it, in sentences and paragraphs, nay pages, and we tell our brothers in this universe of bright, that night is day.

Yes, we pretend that love is like a juice, that can be squeezed from an orange or a grapefruit, by pressing hard. However, we do sometimes see wildflowers blooming in forsaken prairies and smiles unfolding in faces of gloom, and everything eventually recovers the blue of the sky, as the storms are subdued.

We all weep at our not knowing, and unknowingly yearn, for that longing of flying at low altitude, through those plains of remembrance, where serenity lies in oceans of understanding, where we can touch each other naked, without fears of exposing, the vulnerable skins of our feelings and the omnipotent nature of our fragility.

We all sometimes sigh, at the laughter that sprinkles the garden with flowers of all colors and displaces clouds in rainbows after the rains, whenever our eyes and minds meet in harmony of being, and we remember who we really are - this incredible uniqueness of Being, that peeks at itself, through infinite vantage points to discover and celebrate its essence.

What a bliss to live, to fall, to rise to struggle, to believe, to love and to forgive.