Daily Sketch No.13

A Moment of Clarity

Ever been in a dense crowd of people, trying to pass through against the stream? You'd feel elbow, hands, bags strafing across your back and by your side. You try to avoid the feet, look down and up and down again. You can barely make out where one person stops and another begins and feel there breath as you know they can feel yours, and all you want is to get through to the other side. Can you remember it, feel it?

As I begin to understand the soul, I feel like my mind is the crowd and madness tries to pass through to the other side.

I remember my moments of clarity, lifting me out of my sleep in the morning, holding me for what feels like a split second that lasts for 3, 4 or 5 of them. And I see this, what you can see up there. It happened a few times. I would see the human body almost like a living diagram, like an explanatory illustration, trying to show me what we are, what is me, that it is composed as such. A machine, not cold, but practical and well conceived. But a machine. And I always thought; fine, yes, I know, I guess, that's significant, I'm sure, but...I feel it, I feel this disconnect, but what does it mean? What does it mean?

Then I had a longing for it. I wanted this very vision again, but part number two, the sequel, please, because there must be more, I know there is. If I could only hold this powerful, cleansing clarity just long enough to attain some lasting understanding from it. When it happens, all I feel is that I know, but I don't know what is that I know.

Ever since I felt that I was life, that upon it's outta shell I grew but like a fruit on it, the mushroom with two eyes, witnessing the glory of its splendor and working on behalf of its creator amongst billions of us manifestations. And I, life, will not cease until the day our task is done. Not that of this fruit that these two eyes would see in the mirror, but many cycles from now and I felt at peace. Great peace. But I was life, as far as I knew. And from this day on, more than ever before, I struggled deeply with this dreadful word that kept haunting me, like a numb spot that itches far beneath the skin and no matter how much you want to find out where it is so that you can scratch it, but you can't, you just can't find it. And thus was the word, the "soul", which was taunting me, closing my eyes towards it, like I am meant to, but just cannot understand it.

And then, only a few days ago, I can't even tell, it feels like yesterday, it finally snapped. A door cracked open just enough. And as I reached for it, it virtually exploded. I am not life. I am from and to all of the universe, I am created, not formed and will end when time will end, beyond the existence of life itself. I am a soul. Life is our metropolis and its fruit, the body, it is our instrument, our machine, our priceless and powerful vessel. And we, the driver, we carry out the mission that can only be solved within the riddle solving masterpiece that is the realm of matter. Our very purpose is to act on behalf of God, the mighty Infinite, that which is beyond us and who's wisdom glows as our substance, who will reclaim us and all when the riddle is solved and the immense streams of consciousness swing in harmony to continue the Divine Being only to forge yet another finite universe. And another. And another. And bestowed on us is the power to navigate in a world as complex as our collective consciousness and more. Each of us gains wisdom as a soul, while all knowledge, all memories vibrate through the motions of the Divine seed as it makes its rounds to manifest what we call reality. Time and space are but the byproduct of the dimensions the seed creates and not a thought is lost within it. Like phantoms we streak through it and fill bodies from within the womb until the day of departure.

It is not me, this body, but it is my responsibility. And all that I learn, through all that I do and all that I think, it feeds the wisdom of me, the soul, the driver. And this wisdom will determine which vessel will most fittingly continue its growth, be it but a fish or a prince, or just an artist as I find myself to be now.

My clarity, it showed to me my machine. My precious instrument. A gift, powerful but fragile, able but wanting, living and dying. And we are at its mercy, too. It feeds us more than we feed it. I feel like we are really this fragile stream of near immortality, blind towards the truth for all the right reasons, because as long as we don't understand, we may misunderstand and find us trapped in an endless loop of stagnation as we surrender to the seemingly endless toil and suffering of being alive. Yet, that which corrupts us through the tempted flesh is the biggest gift of them all, that we not only know of love, but feel it. That we don't just reason all by itself, but sense it, experience the joy of understanding, the warmth and jumpy joy within us when we finally realize something, when we experience life, when we experience our own skills and when we meet our brothers, sisters, friends and lovers, parents, neighbors, community and everything we touch upon a wish. And then.... then there is faith.

Now faith, I always thought, is the thought that something has our back, when things don't seem to make sense or that, if we do right or at least try, the Most High will appreciate it and we've done well. That those, who act based on that very same faith, knowingly or not, will link with us, naturally, when such moment comes. I felt, that for most people faith is for them, like a personal measure to find some peace and trust on their own behalf. But now I think something slightly different. I believe, Faith is for God, not for us. I have faith that what God wants us to accomplish, even though we don't know at all what this really is, it will work out, if we do what we learn within ourselves, or actually within our bodies, about what we can do. Our Spirit. The mind itself is not us, but a part of our body, a part of the instrument. And all these parts carry within the Spirit, the lot we pulled in order to perform our worldly duties. Great many of them are around and a good collection is part of everyone's tasks. The majority of them, nearly all of them, are only there for the material world to function. And the feedback of our actions teaches us, the soul.

It is not "our" soul. We are the soul, but it is our body and it belongs to life.

And madness giggles, chuckles, grins as it strafes through the windings of my mind, tickles with its spiky little fingers, 22 of them and one for good measure. Can I stay within my skin and apologize to life for all that I am doing to this finely tuned marvel of an instrument, so decent, so nimble, so complicated and I am permitted to control so much of it.

Or AM I? ...that's the pinky's pinky of madness flicking me, provoking me.

How much do I really control of my body. I'm asking it to do something, but as "finely tuned" as it seems, and it is quite amazing, it still can't just do it. First I try to make my mind comprehend and translate all that I want it to do or write or say. Then my mind has to dig through its memories or access to memories and process those. Then all the rest kicks into gear, hoping that the right word comes out of my mouth or my finger hits the right key. Hoping that I won't hit the door frame as I run to the toilette, because 5 coffees late I have lost all my motor skills from holding it in. SO... where's the sense of humor then? I think it is in fact the soul that laughs. The mind receives a curious information and tries to translate it for the soul, but it's all a jumbled mess. Until it finally kicks in and gets it and the sudden joy of body and soul turn out laughter. So, yeah, I think a real laughter comes actually straight from the soul. Maybe all sounds we can make with our body that are not words are much rather a direct communication from our soul. Hmmm.... MADNESS. madness.

But Clarity told me so, tried for so long. And now, who am I to deny this revelation. Welcome to earth, your liver's fine and you got lucky this time, you've got decent eyesight.

Love to you all.

Body of Timur on behalf of Taron, the soul.