What is all that is wrong with this world?
The world which we think we know so well or which we understand via experience and science.
Is it possible as much clichéd as it may be that we could actually be living in a cat's or a dog's dream?
What is that field about which Rumi brags about?
Do the laws of physics apply there?
Do the apples on the branches get hit by people with big heads there as a redemption from gravity?
Ghosts and people must live in harmony there.
That green and incredibly leveled grass in the meadow, those savanna-esque grasslands and the easily scalable ice-capped mountains with beautiful gorges and a crystalline river flowing in them, and the fresh water dolphins somersaulting out of the water, all of it in an existence beyond ours.
There is no right or wrong there, no prejudice, no greed, no jealously, no possession, no pain, no grieve just bliss (not the kind you have on FB, twitter), actual, absolute bliss.
Everybody is having an LSD trip every time but without esuriently swallowing one. Even the monsters are putting flowers in one others' hair there.
God has no business being there, S/He is an ishmael over there. Just living in an old age home called The Heavenly Kingdom with pearly gates. People from the field visits her/him on her/his birthday i.e. every time S/He creates another universe. But that's all there is to her/him. The field has taken her/his progenies or creations to a dimension far from her/his domain which is almost everything.
What do people do in this field? Is there any work there? If so then who assigns it?
I doubt there are any ranks there. Hierarchy is an old concept of a festered world. But nothing rots here, everything is fresh, always.
Everyone is here, everybody who wants to be here is here. It should have been crowded but it’s not. It’s open, open like a magnanimous heart, infinite. A paradox but not at all bewildering.
There is no thin line between fact and fiction; there is no line at all.
No lines, no queues, no coffee, no cigarette, no bear, no 'drinks on me'.
P.S: मैंने रूमी को पढ़ा नहीं है, मैं सिर्फ बड़बोला हूँ|
The world which we think we know so well or which we understand via experience and science.
Is it possible as much clichéd as it may be that we could actually be living in a cat's or a dog's dream?
What is that field about which Rumi brags about?
Do the laws of physics apply there?
Do the apples on the branches get hit by people with big heads there as a redemption from gravity?
Ghosts and people must live in harmony there.
That green and incredibly leveled grass in the meadow, those savanna-esque grasslands and the easily scalable ice-capped mountains with beautiful gorges and a crystalline river flowing in them, and the fresh water dolphins somersaulting out of the water, all of it in an existence beyond ours.
There is no right or wrong there, no prejudice, no greed, no jealously, no possession, no pain, no grieve just bliss (not the kind you have on FB, twitter), actual, absolute bliss.
Everybody is having an LSD trip every time but without esuriently swallowing one. Even the monsters are putting flowers in one others' hair there.
God has no business being there, S/He is an ishmael over there. Just living in an old age home called The Heavenly Kingdom with pearly gates. People from the field visits her/him on her/his birthday i.e. every time S/He creates another universe. But that's all there is to her/him. The field has taken her/his progenies or creations to a dimension far from her/his domain which is almost everything.
What do people do in this field? Is there any work there? If so then who assigns it?
I doubt there are any ranks there. Hierarchy is an old concept of a festered world. But nothing rots here, everything is fresh, always.
Everyone is here, everybody who wants to be here is here. It should have been crowded but it’s not. It’s open, open like a magnanimous heart, infinite. A paradox but not at all bewildering.
There is no thin line between fact and fiction; there is no line at all.
No lines, no queues, no coffee, no cigarette, no bear, no 'drinks on me'.
P.S: मैंने रूमी को पढ़ा नहीं है, मैं सिर्फ बड़बोला हूँ|
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