On Writing
Writing is travelling. Travelling nooks and corners of your mind, better say, of your unconsciousness.
I’d go a little further and say its a pilgrimage coz it helps on cutting karmas from unknown times, from unknown upadhros.
If you write honestly, if you cut a way through your unconsciousness, you may find yourself traversing through the universal mind, universal unconsciousness as well.
While it’s highly rare, two people write the same thing at once, it cannot be called impossible.
Everyone has a different set of layers in their mind, of personal lives, thoughts and everything but the overall unconsciousness is the same for everyone. Every personal experience, every personal memory dissolve there.
So, if you write without anything interfering, not even your breathe and your heartbeat, you would be writing the same thing Buddhas experienced, the enlightened ones realized. But since words are interference already, writing what Buddhas saw is impossible. Only an empty mind can approve that, only eyes can approve that.
Words ? words are not of that world.
Experiencers are nobler than writers.
The ideal poet would live poetry, the ideal novelist would live a novel, not write them. Their approach is of the soul, the everythingness, or say the nothingness.
Mind observes everything, feels them too. But often these experiences are better understood worldly when they are scraped with the knowledge we gained on day to day basis.
Thus, writers write.
And
It’d poetry If it’s more interfered by the heart.
It’d be a scary story, if it’s more interfered by the overall unconsciousness.
It’d be a work of compassion, if it’s interfered by intelligence or by the conscious mind
And, Buddhas share!
It’s like an internship, without which, a student’s degree is not complete. Existence continuously lures them to share what they have realized one way or the other.
OR,
They become the whole existence, It’d be ugly for them to not water dying flowers around.
That way, scriptures and purads are born, Bible and Quarans are born.
In short,
A writer is a traveler.
And there is nothing he travels but his own soul, the mind and the subtle mind-like realm of this vast existence.
I’d go a little further and say its a pilgrimage coz it helps on cutting karmas from unknown times, from unknown upadhros.
If you write honestly, if you cut a way through your unconsciousness, you may find yourself traversing through the universal mind, universal unconsciousness as well.
While it’s highly rare, two people write the same thing at once, it cannot be called impossible.
Everyone has a different set of layers in their mind, of personal lives, thoughts and everything but the overall unconsciousness is the same for everyone. Every personal experience, every personal memory dissolve there.
So, if you write without anything interfering, not even your breathe and your heartbeat, you would be writing the same thing Buddhas experienced, the enlightened ones realized. But since words are interference already, writing what Buddhas saw is impossible. Only an empty mind can approve that, only eyes can approve that.
Words ? words are not of that world.
Experiencers are nobler than writers.
The ideal poet would live poetry, the ideal novelist would live a novel, not write them. Their approach is of the soul, the everythingness, or say the nothingness.
Mind observes everything, feels them too. But often these experiences are better understood worldly when they are scraped with the knowledge we gained on day to day basis.
Thus, writers write.
And
It’d poetry If it’s more interfered by the heart.
It’d be a scary story, if it’s more interfered by the overall unconsciousness.
It’d be a work of compassion, if it’s interfered by intelligence or by the conscious mind
And, Buddhas share!
It’s like an internship, without which, a student’s degree is not complete. Existence continuously lures them to share what they have realized one way or the other.
OR,
They become the whole existence, It’d be ugly for them to not water dying flowers around.
That way, scriptures and purads are born, Bible and Quarans are born.
In short,
A writer is a traveler.
And there is nothing he travels but his own soul, the mind and the subtle mind-like realm of this vast existence.
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