Even Breath Is A Memory

One can never speak enough of it — Life. Truly the journey of its nature alone grants hearts, and those with eyes to appreciate the very essence of its presence.

What would you do if you have that one secret that you can’t shout to the world — that one secret only you can experience, and all who have tasted it would want not so much as returning to the Earth for the joys of the mundane, but to taste Life a thousand times over.

“Sunrise — Menabe region of western Madagascar” Image courtesy and copyright Marsel Van Oosten

What would you do when you know that every step forwards or backwards, bring you a little closer to witnessing {الشهادة} the efflorescence of Life. Through tasting death, one reverts to the eternal sunshine, a soul enshrined within and without the Supreme itSelf.

In that Presence, one is humbled.

In Life, with or without knowledge, one would assume humility. For Life Lives through you — hence to even acknowledge attachments to, or to proclaim a state, a station, a fugaciousness to anything, is to claim divinity, and none other than the Absolute Divine has that prerogative.

One is granted the experience, to witness — understand this. One does not do something to attain to something else. One attains only when Life Grants that moment. If you indeed proclaim that everything you do is in your command, then you would definitely know how you came into being here wherever your localities are, and would not need the Gods, the Altars, the temples within and without; the masjid, the synagogues and the churches.

Even breath is a fleeting memory

Where did that superbia come from?

The ego learns, and oftentimes it forgets, it gloats on the knowledge gained. The witnessed, the learner learns that in his or her emptiness, it espouses humbleness. Humility is not weakness — therein, one gains the heavens.

“Just After Sunrise, Klaten rice fields, Yogyakarta” Image courtesy and copyright AainaA-Ridtz A R

Of what do you know that is not granted to you through Life?

“So long as there is ‘This is mine; my money; my brownies; my car; my wifey or hubby; my religion etcétéra’ — so long as there are attachments to ephemeralness, those will be snapped up! Shout or keep it to yourself — so long as there is a claim to anything, it will, leave {you}!” — AainaA-Ridtz A R

“Thumper — Sunrise” Featured Image courtesy and copyright Miles Morgan

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2 thoughts on “Even Breath Is A Memory

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