What is death?

Death is disintegration of the material layers which constitute the body. A conscious sense is a separate entity which does not disintegrate, but just disengages from the body. This conscious sense is currently limited to ‘I’ and so presently, I refers to consciousness + body and thoughts which are recognised as within the body, though not concrete.

Engaging the I sense, one performs many actions in a lifetime. These actions are not only at the body level, but also at the level of thoughts. And most often speech is also involved in it.

Actions thus generated, perpetuate a cycle. Actions are done only with an aim to gain something most often, or with an aim to avoid something. Both gaining and avoiding are generally inseparable, and thus they are one with reference to the outcome, but the predominant between the two triggers the course of actions and thereby the end which is aimed.

When the end fructifies, it becomes owned as an experience by the conscious being. To specify again, a conscious being is a conscious sense seen within a material aggregate called the body, the apparent combination springs the ‘I’ claiming the body as oneself and mixing up with the inmiscible consciousness. Consciousness and matter are like oil and water. They can be associated but can never be one. Similarly body and consciousness can be associated but can never be mixed up. When they are associated, an emergent ‘I’ claims them as one, hazing the clear separation of consciousness and the body, merging them like two distinct rivers. At the juncture where the meet they are distinctly seen. Similarly, when one traces back one’s origin of I, the separate conscious nature and the nature of the body, representing all matter, becomes evident as distinct.

‘I’ gets falsified as never having a true identity. It is the body which has a birth and body disintegrates. There is no death or even a change possible for the consciousness. Recognising this is liberation.

©️ Deepti Vishwanath 🙏🏼

The Bud

The bud seeing the flowers around

said to herself,

“I am also blooming!

Like all, I will also grow!

I may even be really beautiful.

For I know I belong to the “lovely flowers”

But, when I look at others’

I do wonder,

If this was all I was meant to be?

Can I not be ….”

 

And just then,

the flower looks at the bud and thinks,

“Ah! Those were the days!

Now I wait, only to wither,

My petals away.

But as a bud, I was so happy.

All I have now is wait.. and some fear!”

 

And the plant said,

“have i not survived many a buds and roses,

and thorns?

Each being a part of me!

And they never recognised,

all that I go through

for them to grow!

Ah! I also get noticed because of them!

But, they are that part of me

which blooms and withers.

And there is that part of me, which is to protect them while they grow.

I hold them both equally, for them to bloom!”

 

And the soil said,

“in me all exists.

what you see on the surface is,

because I exist.

All the many plants, the trees…

are all me!

Yet this plant does not recognise me?

But, I protect it while it grows

by holding strong its roots.”

 

And the water said,

“Oh soil!

you do not recognise me.

Where I soak you, there you let the plant thrive.”

 

And the fire said,

“Oh water!

If I do not

collect you from the oceans,

you would not soak the soil?”

 

And the space said,

“Oh fire! I accommodate you.

So you are able to collect water high up in the skies.

 

And the water said,

“wait, I let you collect me,

I surrender,

when you come to collect me.”

 

And the soils said to the water,

“wait water! I surrender when you come to soak me, drench me.”

 

And the plant said,

“wait soil,

I surrender my seed and exert to grow upwards;

propelled by the rays, perhaps of the Sun, I am told.”

 

And the bud said,

“I can only surrender to what fate has for me!

I wait to grow like the flower next to me, I see.”

And the flower said,

“but I wait only to wither…

or wait in fear!”

 

And they all sat and thought and discussed openly,

and wondered, “for whom does all this happen?

whose will is it, that we express?”

 

And as the discussion was escalating,

A child came and plucked the flower which

was then talking.

And all went silent!

Wondering now, what this child will do with the flower?

Was this the end of the journey for all?

 

© Deepti Vishwanath

(Photo from web)