Walked a brown ghost 2
Walked a brown ghost
In screeching shawl;
It ate a toast
Weirdly to crawl. ||1||
When time was blind he spun a ghost, cotton seeds he had got from the darkness that was planted in furrows of misery and concern. His eyes were taken away by her who calls herself Impeccable Wisdom. In her action and will and thought and zeal, and perfection, there is absolutely no flaw, no blemish, absolutely none, fire-pure excellence has always been her watchword. Yet she understands that there is ignorance and that she must enter into the density of that ignorance. Therefore from its yield she collected coarse brown floor, the rustic attā, and prepared a hefty ten kilo bread. A tiny piece she cut from it and made a toast for the brown ghost. She was also kind and careful enough to serve fetta and blackberry jam. In that oddity the hefty brown ghost started climbing the hill, of existence, steep and rugged and scruffy. And, Lo, when he looked back he saw a green cat climbing it though she had no paws.
Cat has no paws,
Oh it is green;
When sense withdraws
Unseen is seen. ||2||
The cat has no paws, green or brown or crimson, small or big, with nails or with no nails. She thought it best not to have them, not at all, in the mud of ugly life to get them dirty, smudgy, splotchy. What a life, bio-design for a peculiar function of tickle, titillation and thrill and itch. Even otherwise during mating she folds them up, triggered by hormonal reflexes. But look at her! the fluffy green cat! Her downy had come from imaginations in the bio-hut. But one day she found herself placed in a radioactive cage with a poison-bottle. She was staring at the huge chalkboard, a musing green creature of nature quietly contemplating abstract opaque yet dense mathematics of human logic. But peculiar is that human logic. It writes down a second degree differential equation, time-dependent Hamiltonian, a wave equation for particles, and starts amusing itself about its own creature, if it is a wave or a particle, a cavorting ripple on the pond or a whizzing bullet in the breast of a deer.
Oh she knows she is Schrödinger’s cat; she had studied Planck’s black-body radiation, that tremendous sparkle of worked-out well-reasoned intuition. But finally all is governed by Uncertainty, exploding from that little “h”, Joule-Second. And you have “Chance”, not Grecian Chance and Necessity, Freewill and firm Determinism, but Fate or Ananke. There goofed and blundered Schrödinger along with his bright friend Max Born. It only gives the odds of where it will appear when you test or measure it. If it is only a quantum odd or chance it leaves the cat in suspended animation. Will the cat be living or dead? You have to open the Box and check it.
But there may not be any cat at all there, green or white or brown; if it was because of Chance she happened to be in the danger-box, it could therefore have as well by some glorious Chance jumped out of the Box!!! Breathing mockingly out!!! When forced to confront reality at its absolute paradox-ridden foundation hard literal logic eventually “goofs and blunders”. That Schrödinger-Born quantum science successfully builds the capability to “jump into space,” yet it remains fundamentally “stumped” by the underlying mystery of matter. It does not remain any more pure science; it turns out to be an image, a picture, a concept built by the genius named “Mind”. Is there really anything called God-Particle”? We continue to amuse ourselves, amuse ourselves endlessly, though at times there are gains and profits and rewards, shiny or buffed coins of satisfied joy.
The conceptual pivot of modern hyper-rationalism frequently misinterprets the blank spaces of reality, of dark matter, of the subjective void as sterile, useless errors in a cosmic equation. Yet “Nothing is otiose, nothing”. There is a positivist’s consolation in Rilke’s iconic line, “Ich glaube an Nächte” (I have faith in nights); it transforms our understanding of darkness. Night is not an absence of productivity; it is a vital cosmic reality that holds the universe together. If Hector’s horse was fed with honey-dipped grass, there is a perfect reason why a small black ant should long for an ambrosial drink. Will it get that? Poor creature, it ought to!!!
Small black ant cried,
“Give me a drink.”
Love it had tried
But smacked of ink. ||3||
Is life only tragi-tragi? Frustration deepening into frustration? Terrible agencies are at work and the fruit on the tree does not ripen. Rose climbers on the delicate pergola arches or strong wood trellis bloom and wilt and fade, their fragrance becoming pungent. Yet carrion flowers can be creative, with sulphides and amines, imitating rotten meat. Lotus flowers open in the morning to catch sunlight and pollinators, and tightly close their heavy petals at nightfall. While as the petals snap shut insects foraging late can find themselves enclosed; bees are well-adapted to nocturnal resting, easily emerge once the flower blooms again with the sun.
The small black ant was in search of her petite soul, sa jolie petite âme heureuse. She thought the easiest way was to have a drink. She went to a renowned wine vendor, sommelier, and asked for a bottle having crimson bubbling wine called “Love”. She wouldn’t mind paying any price. But that was a wrong move on her part. Instead of climbing the jaggery mound she had gone to the dazzling-glittering mall. What she bought smelt of dark viscous ink manufactured in the State of Filth located in the World of Stigma. “Save yourself”, someone taunted her.
The bell rang and she remembered what she had learnt from her grandmother, a fabulous story narrated by the old wonderful Æsop, of robust ancient years. A proud lion had terrible breath but who would dare tell him that? The smart fox chicly said: “You have to have a severe headache not to smell anything at all.”
Zeal of wind flew
On orange wings;
Body’ will knew
The gold of things. ||4||
“I picked up Haeckel, opened at the chapter on Worm forms ancestral to man.” And I knew that it is a long journey. I knew that first should arrive the Ape so that from an apelike creature can appear Man. It is Mind who prepares this apelike body for the habitation of the Gods. The Spirit offered them a cow for dwelling but they refused it, so too the horse, not finding good enough for their work. Man from the Apelike creature was well-built, and they occupied it. But he is not sufficiently well-built and yet another body must be fashioned, a body built on New Sankhya in which death will not be present, death in life-in-matter. Haeckel, did he experience the zeal of the orange wind? He sensed that there is “an obscure mind of the body, of the very cells, molecules, corpuscles.” But he did not have eyes to see “the shadow thrown by a secret reality”. It is that shadow present in the obtuse material body with which the supreme Yogini is busy. The body of the Overman, surhomme, because of her is ready in the subtle-physical and it has now to materialise here. That is the birth of the Son of the Body. The golden tower is built and the flame-child born. The Divine has smiled in the joy of creation. What a smile!
Round pebbles rolled,
Needing no thought;
Smile is not cold
When by joy brought. ||5||
Round pebbles rolled in the sky and everywhere, — rolled, wheeled, swiveled, revolved, because of her look; it is her smile that awoke a celestial sense, the smile of love that sanctions the long game, the sunlight a great god’s golden smile. Love is the ultimate power that guides creation, order, and human possibility. In Dante it is “l’amor che move il sole e l’altre stelle” —”the love that moves the sun and the other stars”. Is Love the source of everything with Smile is only the output? Could the “output” act as a metaphor for the “source”? Sure, it functioning as the visible sign of an invisible force. There is the miracle of eternal beauty, “an unseizable secret of divine harmonies, the compelling magic of an irresistible universal charm and attraction that draws and holds things and forces and beings together and obliges them to meet and unite that a hidden Ananda may play from behind the veil and make of them its rhythms and its figures.” Leonardo’s Mona Lisa celebrates the complexity of earthly human consciousness, secrets, and internal emotional life. The famed artist used a painting technique called sfumato, that which blends edges without sharp lines. it has analytical precision, depicts the moti mentali (mental motions) of the subject. It, Cosmic love (or gravity), pulls objects together without physical contact. That is Action at a Distance.
Love is Delight of Being, Ananda. Creation is an Act of Love and Self-Manifestation whose deepest purpose is the self-expression and self-fulfilment of Divine Love. “Love is the crown of all being and its way of fulfilment, that by which it rises to all intensity and all fullness and the ecstasy of utter self-finding.” Love is a “fundamental determinate” of this Delight, alongside Joy and Beauty. It is the secret motive and ultimate object of creation, the power by which the One knows and enjoys itself in and through its own multiplicity, and the means by which the soul returns from division to the bliss of perfect oneness. Love- Beauty-Joy, प्रेम सौन्दर्य आनन्द, is the Trio. Its other name is Truth-Consciousness-Bliss, सत्य-चेतना-आनन्द. Noble is She, आर्य सा.
Now comes the flame
For day, for night;
“Noble” its name,
Wonder’s delight. ||6||
O Love — हे प्रेम्णः;
O Beauty — हे सौन्दर्ये;
O Bliss — हे आनन्दाय;
O Radiant Purity — हे दीप्तिशुद्धि;
Agni the blazing Fire is the Noble, अग्निः प्रज्वलितः अग्निः आर्यः. He is the bearer of our offerings. Let him take our offerings not only to the divine Godheads; let him carry them to the Lord himself, supreme Lord with his Spouse making fire-offerings at the altar, Āhutis orange and brilliant in the joy of offerings.
But Oh the Truant Agni! He had escaped from the altar of the sacrifice and was nowhere to be found. So great Gods Varuna and Mitra and Yama set out in search of him. He was found hiding in the waters with a large and dense covering. They asked him to come out and take up his responsibility at the altar of sacrifice. Initially he refused. They said: “You are mighty now but would become almighty if you would take up your responsibility.” Agni finally accepts and comes out of his hiding and marches out with the Gods. [Rig Veda X:51]
The Son of the Body must be born, Tanunapāta must take birth in mortality, the immortal in the mortal must materialise. And here is Seven Fire engaged for it to happen, preparing the divine Yajña-Kuṇda, gathering the sandalwood faggots, chanting the hymns, summoning the Gods to participate in the occult-mystic Sacrifice.
O Dazzler in the dazzle of dazzling accomplishments, O strong and speediest worker, O Speedster, O who never pauses even for a moment, O Fire, speed up in your action. O Dazzler, O Speedster, O Freeway Galloper, gallop, gallop on the Freeway, Freeway with topaz terrazzo, flaming terrazzo, gallop in your tremendous haste, gallop in your tremendous haste, in your noble haste, gallop on the Freeway.
O Fire, may you be with the mortal, be with the mortal. Make life full of dynamism, of the Life-Powers. O Fire, you flaming into lustre, for the begetting of the son, beget for the mortal the son. In happy luminous peace let the son be born. The mortal desires the son. O, let the son be born. Let ever the noble Fire-worship remain kindled. Make life full of dynamism. O Fire, O strong Worker, let the son be born, let the son be born, let the son be born, पुत्रः जायते, पुत्रः जायते.
8 August 2026
The first text is here:
Divine Love
Featured Image is Kadamb richly associated with Krishna of Brindavan
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