Free god from the hegemony of the wise
let me be stupid
let me find out for myself
I don’t want to be told how to pray
how to think or what the truth is
Author: Meryll Inkaois
This is a mental health blog. Even though it may resonate with some readers, it is not about me or my personal experiences. This is a fictional blog, for isn't all truth fiction before it becomes truth? And sometimes we can only acknowledge great truths in fiction. This is a blog about loneliness, depression, anxiety, faithlessness, and negativity from a compassionate and kind lens. It is about the experience of the soul as it learns its lessons on Earth.
100 words about nothingness
This is what I hear, see and know when I go into meditation.
Who am I?
I am an energy that is acting and behaving as this person for a short while. I am an actor playing my own role.
Who is god?
I don’t know
What is god?
God is love
Is god here?
Yes
Where will I go when I die?
Nowhere. I will become potential and unite again with the ocean.
Is there reincarnation?
Will I be born again?
Yes. I am in school
What is the purpose and objective of the school?
The objective of the school is to remember who you are. The purpose is to find love. God is love, so the purpose is to find god.
Is the love of god spiritual love?
No, love is love. Love of god can be as passionate and romantic as love of human beings.
What is the difference between romantic love and spiritual love?
In one there is lack, in the other, there is greater fulfillment for some.
It depends on each individual what fulfills them.
Does one have to be in a relationship to find god?
No. God is love and love is here everywhere.
Does one have to give up relationships to find god or have a relationship with god?
The relationship with god is the relationship you have to yourself…because your enduring, eternal true self is part of god. It is the primary relationship, far deeper and greater than even the relationship you had with your mother or father.
When people harm us, hurt us instead of loving us, what does it mean?
It means ignorance. Few choose to hurt deliberately, most think that they are hurt and therefore justified in hurting another person. It helps to remember that people are doing the best they can from their level of understanding. It helps to remember that you are eternal and stronger than any hurt ever done to you. You have power, no matter how bad you feel about yourself.
Which kind of religion is ok?
The one that helps you have faith. Faith isn’t the same thing as religion. Religion should help you to have faith, but it should not be a substitute for faith. religion is about building a community based on common values rather than connecting to god. If you are practicing religion to have community, then it is not about enlightenment but about survival and belonging. These are human problems and often religion is used to resolve them. That is purpose of religion, but it will only take you this far. After this, if you are ready, you will be taken further.
What is the relationship between survival and spiritual enlightenment?.
Without survival you can’t have enlightenment. Without enlightenment you can have survival but not happiness.
What is enlightenment?
Enlightenment is what the word suggestions in many ways. To see yourself as light, to be suffused with light. To have a moment whereupon mind body and spirit become one. Enlightenment is a state of true seeing.
Why is it so hard to let go of the senses?
I could ask why is it so hard to let go of the state of nirvana or ecstacy?
Senses or no senses can both be additions. It is hard to awaken back to regular consciousness. Some people like to escapte the senses and others like to stay in the senses. It depends on what they are here to do.
Is yoga a way to reunite with the ocean of awareness ?
Yes, if practiced with the intention. Intention is most important.
The Body Remembers
Fiction
Once or maybe multiple times I was a slave girl. My master would beat me if I did not work hard enough. I had very little money to clothe myself. My days would be spent scrubbing floors, my nights in prayer.
I knew that beyond my life there was something beautiful, beyond imagination, beyond time. At night, when my master slept I would talk to the angels who would visit me. I’d laugh for hours and play.
Then sleep would come. In the early morning before my master woke for the morning prayer, a hand on my shoulder would awaken me. Sometimes it was Micheal, sometimes Gabriel. They’d wake me to get up. In the morning my body would be heavy. After visiting heaven, the hell that is earth would make me listless and sad.
In those times, I’d wash my face and hands, then quietly stand on my prayer mat. Moving my body through the familiar shapes of prayer, I’d liberate my body from the pain of being here.
After I was done praying, I’d hear the Azaan and quietly prepare everything for my master’s prayers. My master would be sometimes asleep, sometimes awake when I knocked on his door with his bed tea.
He had an illness that would make it difficult for him to digest food. I had to be very careful with the breakfast. There was tea to be made, bread to be baked and it had to be just right.
His water for cleansing his body had to be the right temperature.
After he washed his body, he would pray and then sometimes I’d hear him sobbing asking god for more money, forgiveness for visiting the prostitutes or forgiveness for how he had treated someone. I knew that the master had a heart except that it was hidden behind a cloud of confusion.
Some days he was very angry, and even after prayer, he had not found peace. Those days were difficult for me, because there was nothing I did right. The bread was too crisp or too soft. The food was not salty enough or too salty.
Sometimes everything was ok, but I walked a certain way that he did not like.
He’ d say to me, do you want to attract men? You think that if you serve me well, I will give you a house? You are nothing. You don’t know anything.
I would feel terrible in those times. My stomach, my entire being would burn with anger. I knew better than to reply to him. When I was a child I said something back, but he slapped me and pulled my ear.
Nobody ever dies. Though I died. I was born again with him. He was an ordinary man, but my body remembered him differently and thus we fell into the same pattern. He, the superior male beloved of the family and me the female burden–the slave.
Is Life Stardust?
Fiction
When I was a little girl, my earliest experience of life was stardust. I saw stardust everywhere. There weren’t any edges to anything, it was as if globs of light merged into other globs of light and through it all the only voice that could connect me to life on earth was my mother’s voice. If she hadn’t talked to me so much I doubt I’d have decided to stay. Incarnating in my body had not been easy. I felt unready somehow. All too soon my peaceful, beautiful sleep was interrupted by the dreadful pressure and I realized I was tumbling down a hole and the next realization was of lights, and voices. I saw her eyes first and they were full of love.
It was hard for me to feel so vulnerable. I only remember that I felt so dependent and helpless on the child who was now my mother.
I felt hungry and angry because there was no milk for me. First she calls me and now no milk for me!
I felt such a terrible rage. I feel as if I have been alive way too long….without a proper rest for centuries.
My mother adored me. Yet this was not a happy home. There was a lot of yelling and shouting here. The loud noises would often wake me. And I’d feel the awful anger and fear about something or the other. My body would burn with fever. So much anger here. What have I done, incarnating here wasn’t a good idea. I am often miserable because there are two other kids who bother me. My mother seems to think that stuffing me with milk is the only way to feed me. I feel tired all the time, the food isn’t what I like to eat. I prefer vegetables, but I hardly get any. I have so little energy.
My angels play with me a lot and I spend hours talking to them. My mother asks me who I talk to and I tell her I speak to someone called Ajamujakhahara. I don’t feel safe to tell a lot of people about my friends. I have lots of them. I love playing alone. My siblings are often jealous of me, because my parents play with me and don’t bother me as much as they bother them to do things. They are a lot older than me, but they are usually angry with me because I don’t have to do homework or I am given hugs when they aren’t.
Time passes. My body keeps growing. I am very curious about where we came from and who we are and where we are going and why am I in this body? Why not a different one? The question of who am I? troubled me a lot and I can spend hours wondering who I am. When I am older around 8 or 10, I followed my mother through the house and ask her all these questions. She doesn’t have any answers other than to tell me that the questions mean I am going through a phase and it will pass.
But it never passed. My curiosity about why I am here is deep. Deep enough to bother me enough to stop everything in my life and meditate to find the answers. My questions are constant and highly disturbing. And the only answers that satisfy me come through meditation. My interest in metaphysics increases around this age, because these kind of books seem to be asking what I truly care about.
In the meanwhile, my angels keep me company. At home my siblings don’t like me for being this way. I am the continuous butt of jokes and put downs because of my questions. My mother has to often step in to stop them from bugging me. My sister and brother often laugh if I say what the angels tell me about life and why we are here. One day the angels said to me after I had asked them 15 times when did life begin and how did god come about that some things have no beginnings and no endings. I was quite shocked and struck by this and ran to tell my mother. My mother shared it with my siblings and it became a joke to tease me.
As I grew, I had more moments of pure ecstasy, where time stopped and I could see the magical beauty of creation. Those moments would create a lot of fuss at home. If my sister ever found me in communion with people she could not see she would get frightened and go tell my mother and soon I’d hear all about the importance of being normal. Later if my sister saw me she would just laugh. I got used to staying silent about what I saw. I got used to hiding who I was. I got used to being normal.
Normal was a place where you didn’t see anything that other people didn’t want you to see. Normal was a place where the stronger, louder and more powerful person dictated what mattered.
My brother was kinder to me in those years, but he too had a bullying nature. I dreaded the moments when all three would get together and make me the butt of their jokes. My only crime was that I saw what they did not and felt what they did not.
I was so used to being ridiculed and humiliated, it was such a familiar pattern to feel like that I was ugly and stupid, that I married the first guy who treated me badly. It felt normal. This was how my siblings treated me and this is how he treated me and this was an extension of my normal life, where I gave a lot of love and caring to the other people around me and in return received humiliation.
This was normal. When he extended the emotional violation to anal sex in vulnerable moments when my back was turned, that too was normal. After all, I had been primed my whole life to be bullied.
Later when somehow the angels made me leave that marriage and my brothr helped, it was normal to be mistreated by him too. It was normal to work for his two companies for years and be humiliated often. It was normal that despite working for his companies, I had no name on anything. When one of the companies was sold he got lots of money, but I ended up losing my house and I and my son had nowhere to go.
At that time I could have gone back to my mother, to ‘my family’ but I did not. My mother begged and pleaded but I could not go. My son visits, but I try to avoid it…for too long I have been told to keep quiet, don’t say this, be submissive, don’t say anything because it causes trouble for my mother. It didn’t make sense to me to be a victim anymore. I decided that it is time I spoke about what I actually see, hear and think.
So here it is. This is what I hear, see and know when I go into meditation.
Who am I?
I am an energy that is acting and behaving as this person for a short while. I am an actor playing my own role.
Who is god?
I don’t know
What is god?
God is love
Is god here?
Yes
Where will I go when I die?
Nowhere. I will become potential and unite again with the ocean.
Is there reincarnation?
Will I be born again?
Yes. I am in school
What is the purpose and objective of the school?
The objective of the school is to remember who you are. The purpose is to find love. God is love, so the purpose is to find god.
Is the love of god spiritual love?
No, love is love. Love of god can be as passionate and romantic as love of human beings.
What is the difference between romantic love and spiritual love?
In one there is lack, in the other, there is greater fulfillment for some.
It depends on each individual what fulfills them.
Does one have to be in a relationship to find god?
No. God is love and love is here everywhere.
Does one have to give up relationships to find god or have a relationship with god?
The relationship with god is the relationship you have to yourself…because your enduring, eternal true self is part of god. It is the primary relationship, far deeper and greater than even the relationship you had with your mother or father.
When people harm us, hurt us instead of loving us, what does it mean?
It means ignorance. Few choose to hurt deliberately, most think that they are hurt and therefore justified in hurting another person. It helps to remember that people are doing the best they can from their level of understanding. It helps to remember that you are eternal and stronger than any hurt ever done to you. You have power, no matter how bad you feel about yourself.
Which kind of religion is ok?
The one that helps you have faith. Faith isn’t the same thing as religion. Religion should help you to have faith, but it should not be a substitute for faith. religion is about building a community based on common values rather than connecting to god. If you are practicing religion to have community, then it is not about enlightenment but about survival and belonging. These are human problems and often religion is used to resolve them. That is purpose of religion, but it will only take you this far. After this, if you are ready, you will be taken further.
What is the relationship between survival and spiritual enlightenment?.
Without survival you can’t have enlightenment. Without enlightenment you can have survival but not happiness.
What is enlightenment?
Enlightenment is what the word suggestions in many ways. To see yourself as light, to be suffused with light. To have a moment whereupon mind body and spirit become one. Enlightenment is a state of true seeing.
Why is it so hard to let go of the senses?
I could ask why is it so hard to let go of the state of nirvana or ecstacy?
It can be equally hard to awaken back to regular consciousness. Some people like to escapte the senses and others like to stay in the senses. It depends on what they are here to do.
Is yoga a way to reunite with the ocean of awareness ?
Yes, if practiced with the intention. Intention is most important.
Knock on the door
I am at a strange place in my life, where I want to die but after completing something that has compelled me, called me, knocked on my door, literally tripping me, until I listen. So I have decided that in the next 90 days I will talk about all the things that I have had to stop myself from saying for a very long time. After that I feel that dying would be fun and a welcome relief.
I have run and hidden from all kinds of people. Some people will tell me that what I see isn’t real, other people tell me that I couldn’t possibly see it.
Some people hear about what I see they say it must be god, jesus, energy, vibration, angels. Given how afraid I was of dogma, being spiritual was almost fearful. It helps to communicate with those people who see what I do. My new found belief is that imagination and having a rich inner experience is a right.
Sometimes having this gift feels like a handicap. I could never really speak about it in front of people as a child. My ‘imaginary friends’ could not be mentioned in front of others. I did not have permission to see what others did not see and even now a part of my mind is wondering is it safe?
There are times in my life that when I walk into a room full of people it feels congested and tight, because each person is carrying so much. People have so much going on about which they seem blissfully unaware. to not see, or feel, takes up a lot of effort and then I must spend days in silence, forgetting what I saw. Every contact with another person is almost painful for me. Perhaps what is most difficult is humoring them when it is so clear that they are hiding something. I honestly feel as if I am from another planet and everyone around me is blind. When I first realized that they don’t pick up on stuff going on in the room, it was a huge relief in some ways, it became easier to make eye contact. It became easier to see what I am allowed to see.
It was such a slow realization…..that perhaps this is a gift, not an awful horrible nuisance….that I don’t have to constantly isolate myself from others and that others could like me. I still find it difficult. There is that moment of panic when I meet people.
And even as I write this a part of me is in fear because it means I must be weird, not normal. Being normal was so important to my mother, she’d often say it, ‘be normal’, you should be ‘normal’. So and so is ‘normal’. I tried so hard to be normal.
I am not sure why I chose this life. Perhaps I wanted to forget who I am. I’d often try to forget who I am. I felt that being who I am is too dangerous, too scary and it is far far better to forget my soul purpose.
I tried so hard. I got regular degrees, regular jobs, tried getting married and carving out a normal life doing the things that everyone aspires to do.
And yet, wherever I went, there I was. I’d just get sick after a while and have to stay home to recover. People would take care of me. My family or friends would help…until the day I woke up and realized that I see something that others don’t, that I hear a music that others don’t.
After that, the helpful people who had so far taken care of me disappeared. New people appeared. People are strange, they want hope and help and healing, but if somebody does that for them, they don’t want to pay for it. They are ok to buy sofas, and chairs and shop for things that soon become junk, but they think before paying for healing. I’ve seen people pay for coffee but think twice about paying someone who shares energy with them.
I think most people are taught that they aren’t worth it and they don’t deserve to take care of themselves, because they aren’t pretty enough or rich enough. Most people think they have to have things and all their problems would go away if somehow they got more money. But the problems aren’t actually created on Earth, they are created in a different dimension, so the problems don’t actually go away even if they get tons of money, or whatever. You think that you have a new problem and it is only when you get old, you realise that the new problem is actually a lot like the old problem and then you realize that the problem was the same all along and you wasted so much time solving it but it kept coming up again and again.
Human beings are meant to thrive on challenges. They are meant to have problems to solve. This gives meaning and excitement to one’s life. It’s like those video game adventures, it just keeps going on and on until you die.
Sometimes though, quite rarely people wake up spontaneously or they decide that there is something a little suspicious about the de-javu, and perhaps it is time to wake up.
To wake up, one has to meditate, do hypnosis, yoga or read or something that stops the chattering monkey so that you i.e., your ego starts talking to the real boss –the higher self.
When you start meditating, you can be sure of only one thing, that you will find out a lot about yourself. Why you do what you do, for one thing may be related to all sorts of events and incidents that happened a gazillion years ago, but your mind still hangs on to them for dear life.
Dear life is right. Your mind, my mind, our minds, need something to do, and so it is like a video game, it creates the story and replays it over and over and over again, and if you don’t stay vigilant, you can get sucked right back into it. The price of freedom from the story is to stay present and vigilant.
It is hard for human minds to grasp just how dynamic and ever changing life really is, and that is why perhaps monks spend decades meditating, to unify the story creating inner mind with what is truly in front of it and train it to stay alert.
All forms of meditation are about working with the inner mind….but each form of meditation is delivered with a theoretical framework of its creators. For example Christian prayer is a form of meditation rooted in biblical metaphor, which should be seen as a metaphor, rather than literal fact, because literal metaphor is limiting the scope of the message. Similarly Buddhist meditation is rooted in Buddhist religion.
Yet, I believe that all these ways were biased by the beliefs, culture and world view of their originators and therefore they subtly plant certain ideas about the way the world is.
We all meditate or go into hypnosis—when we drive a car for example. To meditate is to simply still the mind into a non-ego state. When we do that we can create a sense of ecstatic joy. Yoga can give meditation, guided visualizations and all sorts of prayer, chanting, moving, dance paint, art and sex all have the capability to stop the ego’s chatter for a moment and simply be in awe. There prescribed higher and lower forms of Samadhi/Nirvana/enlightenment/oneness/bliss. But they all have a type of bias, a type of partiality—depending on the context of the experience. Few people may be aware that the above experiences are similar to what we do during meditation or hypnosis. meditation is like the dissolving of a spoon of sugar into a large glass of water—the merging of an individual consciousness with a bigger awareness.
This merging is by necessity biased by the context…. it matters if the glass of water is held in a certain kind of container.
Is there any going away from this? Is there any way to be totally impartial?
Total impartiality comes with a complete transcendence and overcoming of the ego. This is a state where time, past present and future stand unmoving. It is a place where a deep practice of meditation can take one, where all things become one.
It is like the glass of water merging into an ocean.
This state is rare and once here, it is hard to get here and harder still to go back from here into the small glass of water and then back into the teaspoon of sugar. (individual mind, emotions, body) .
The Rupture of the Mother Line and the Cost of Becoming Real
What needs to change?
What needs to change isn’t what we think it is.
What we feel angry about is never what we think it is.
The greatest anger we have is towards oneself. The cause of anger is not the world, or people but how we are in front of them. My greatest sorrow is not about what others did to me, but what I did to myself.
Learning the truth has freed me from thinking that others had anything to do with my sorrows, failures and discontent in life.
We always have a choice. No choice comes without consequences.
For everything that we have in our lives we have paid a price. To have stability we may have sacrificed truth. For love we may have given up art. For children we may have given up love. For safety we may have given up joy.
Each person on the street is an unsung hero or heroine. In those eyes there is sorrow, pain, anger, discontent. So few walk the streets as if they are present. Most live quietly in another time, another place. Anywhere but here, because here is what birthed from that choice.
What hurts us is our own idea of how things should be or could have been if life had been different. Reality moves like a pen writing itself, each pixel a choice that we have made. Sometimes the choice is made even before birth. We can stay silent in front of reality, or we can speak about this prison of the mind, describing the slippery slimy walls, where old fetid ideas give off an odour of things long dead, a bittersweet melancholy of what had once lived.
I walk the path downstream, gazing at death as it first kills, then breaks and removes the debris of all things. Death’s embrace is sorrows cold icy touch on the heart. It is an emptiness like a black hole. I see no reason to serenade Death. Death has no joy and should not have it. Death’s job is to die and remove the old. It must have sorrow to do its job.
If I had a million dollars
The Million Dollars
If I had a million dollars
i would lift my head from the everyday misery of chores
and create beauty
I’d stop being a slave to society’s demands
If I do my daily chores, I stop thinking of what else I could be doing
Other than a feeling of discontent, is this all there is to life?
I could invent reasons to dislike society, people, family and friends
because their lives revolve around the pursuit of earning a living
never mind that the definition of those needs keep expanding, yesterdays list has expainded 10 fold…
yet we want more and more and more. When wil you break the chains and embrace a new way of living.
I often wonder are they really happy or is this a facade? There must be something wrong, in them or in me, perhaps I should try to educate them about the things that should really matter.
And yes, they may even love me for it.
If I dont do the chores, the distant possibilities of what I could be doing with my free time entice me
modern day sirens, beckoning me with words, colours, rhythm and song, come Saima, leave the trash
Paint what you feel and speak as you are, and stop caring about the material world, laundry, clothes, food
Yet, when I sit down to write, to tell the world how the most important things in life aren’t brand names, addresses and physical appearance..that the most important thing is to do nothing, but be still, that only love is real, and everything else a delusion……I become quiet. it isnt really true is it?
This material world is a jungle, where we pursue security and safety….it used to be that we were secure and safe more easily, we needed to do less in order to have shelter food and family.
Having enough and feeling secure is a feeling as much as it is title deed….as we inhabit the world, our inbuilt sense of security that our needs are provided for, and tha we have enough is lessening. every generation is more fearful….the sense of lack drives us to work even harder, to run faster, to be better so that we have more.
Is there freedom from this?
Perhaps I can only dream of freedom, real freedom is far too difficult
It is the nature of prisons that we get used to them…
Other people
I’d been wondering and thinking for a while if there was any other way to live on the planet, other than through fear of other people. Other people were very powerful. They could decide if you a/were born b/nurtured c/loved d/went to school e/had a name among other things.
The funny thing was that other people nearly always said that other people were the reason they were miserable…they /had/ to do what they were doing to survive. At any given time it was nearly impossible to get what I wanted, usually because of other people who were more powerful and seemed to thrive on making me miserable. My mother said my father was more powerful, my father said his boss was more powerful. It went on and on. Nobody felt like they had much control over their life and their actions and they felt trapped by life and circumstances and there it was again–other people’s needs.
Why was everyone doing everything because of other people? To me it seemed like there had to be another answer, another way of living, rather than scrambling for food and living for others and then blaming them when they didn’t give one what one wanted. There was something illogical and wrong about this situation. It felt like I was living a lie.
Even though I was very certain that I was in a trap and there was no way out of this trap the universe had other plans for me. In a life changing event, I met an energy healer and out of sheer boredom allowed my life force to connect with what lay outside what my senses could see. In that moment I felt freedom….I encountered detachment and that resounding question that had bothered me from childhood reverberated in my head. Is there something else besides this endless foraging for food, status, power?
Yes….there is….there is a place called detachment….
I have no name for this…people have called it finding god within…..a sense of abundance even in the direst circumstances—an urge to laugh in the face of fear….this place could be described as abundant.
Abundance is…
Freedom from fear…it is a feeling of a deep letting go. You know when you have something that somebody wants badly and you just pick it up and give it out of a feeling of generousity? a pretty dress, a flower, a home…abundance was the act of wholehearted giving…giving up, giving in, giving out, giving more with no expectations..or discrimination or thought of return…like how the planet gives food, water, shelter to all its inhabitants. Like how nature creates itself in millions of ways…
When you see the truth with the eyes of the heart, it is hard to buy into the illusion. I was no longer able to live like before as if I did not have enough or I needed something that someone else had. The illusion is quite gripping and our minds are programmed to hide the truth from us….however the heart can see much further into this plexiglass pixelated ever-playing illusion of the world.
The planet itself tells me there is enough for everyone. It is the truth.
Behind The Veil 