Home Site Map Contact Search

Nonduality Salon (/ \)




Patterns appear on the screen of awareness
"Mental" and "physical" they get labelled.
Thoughts, feelings, desires for the former
Galaxies, pianos, ants tabled by the later

The physical, the objective, the measurable,
Have sciences for their description&prediction
The mental, not having "meters" to measure,
Have to do with inexact characterisation.

The physical, seem mathematically regular,
Cause&effect encode, deterministic or statistical,
And even when they may not (be regular),
Spontaneity always the course of behaviour

Insofar the mental are linked to the physical,
They too inherit the rhythms dynamical
Insofar as there may not be connections (to physical)
Desires still arise&pass as uncalled fluctuations

If that is so, every happening without a doer,
Who is this "me" claimer of separate will&intent ?
It could not even choose its birth&circumstances,
How then can it send this blabber across Internet?

Ideas occur, fingers tap the keyboard,
IP address imprinted on waving electro-magnetism,
Routers route, bits travel fibers and cables,
None does anything, emails get created&delivered!


India Coffee House, M.G.Road, Bangalore, on a lazy weekend morning,
Cool monsoon breeze, open door, create natural air conditioning
Book on cosmology in one (hand) balanced by cup of coffee in the other,
Caffine, neurotransmitters, create thoughts to entertain the beholder.


Gravity and motion, waves in the ocean, to meet the shore
Grass and wind, waves in the meadows, to sooth the vision
Fields and particles, waves in the vacuum, bake universe material
Attachments and desires, waves in the mind, make human's world


Seed brought in by a sea breeze from afar,
Soil enriched by the lives returned sofar,
Water flowing all the way from mountain summits,
Sun rays making their way through branch'n leaves,
Bring to life and nurture a tiny plant
Time transforms it into a big, huge tree,
Says the tree, I made me!


Who fought when Adolf fought for which he took all the blame,
Who thought what Albert thought which earned him the fame,
Who sought when this ego sought the mystery with no name,
The doer, the knower, the seeker; deed, knowledge and sought,
The spinner of web of space, time, form from a total naught,
Who will catch as the mist recedes and "the who"is caught?!


No Nirvana to attain, no enlightenment to be gained,
Whatever is, has always been , everywhere,
Tho never seen as such since the very early years

Thoughts receed when seen as they are
Spontaneity of every happening self-evident
No meaning, no cause, just joy to be for the ONE

_mystical_writings_of_lama_nobody ([email protected])


THAT which was, which is, and which will be, splits itself
The doer (spontaneously) spins its web, creates
space-time-mass-energy, and a multidude of forms out
of them. The knower projects its "knowerness" on (atleast)
some of these forms (altleast) during their non-deep sleep
phase. As the forms watch ON BEHALF of the knower,
the doer "performs". Somewhere along the forms start
taking credit for part of the doer's magic. The ME arises
- my thoghts, my desires, my will, my likes, my dislikes,
my intentions, my dreams, my body. Attachments to some
of the fellow forms, yearning for happiness, attempts to
avoid misery which result in more misery than the one they
were meant to avoid, and everything else that make a
"world" follow. The doer reinforces the "me"s through
displays and "actions" CONSISTENT with thier world
view. The "me"s get confused, start looking for "THE
TRUTH". The "show" goes on. In due course, like their
unasked appaerance, the "me"s get dissolved, unasked.
In the dissolution, when there is nobody left to ask the
question, only THE ANSWER remains. Is THAT which
was, which is, and which will be, "aware" of all this ?
May be, or may be not.

Do you know ?

Do you know Budda's Shunya, Lao Tsu's Tao,
Jesus's father, Meera's lover, Mohammad's Allah ?

Do you know the life in Einstein's Tensor's,
in Shrodinger's differentials, in any finer, future characterisation ?

Do you know the author of child's innocence,
of morning dew, of glowing snow peak in the rising sun ?

Do you know the birthplace of the Universe,
of heart's desire, of the previous thought ?

Do you know the resting place of mind when it sleeps,
of wind when its stops blowing, of river when it stops flowing?

Do you you know how to verify the answer/s, if any ?
Do you know who is asking the questions ?



Dear me, claimer of continuous identity, where were you
before birth of the body, between two thoughts & feelings,
in the depths of silent sleep?

Dear me, creator of science&technology, where were you
when the Universe was born, when the atoms started ticking,
when molecules evolved evetually into humanity ?

Dear me, owner of the body, where are you
when the food is digesting, when the heart is beating,
when the cells convert sugar into energy ?

Dear me, none of the above, default figment of nobody's imagination,
just an invariant of spontaneous thoughts supported by partial memory,
why should I take you seriously ?


Says the human, he-bees feed on the honey gathered by workers
Till one day when the bee-queen soars high in the blue sky
And thousands of aspiring hes swarm the heavens.
One among them, who scales the highest, proves his love to her
Few moments of passion with his beloved
And he returns, not to the hive but to the ground, lifeless.
He lived for love, paid with his life
How romantic, how tragic, how ironic !

Says Life, there is no worker, no he-bee, no queen
Nobody was born so nobody died.
Mind sees&names individual forms where there are none,
Just new twists and turns as I explore my existence.
Leave behind logic&reason, feelings&emotions,
To see me as I have always been since time immemorial.
Did you not see the eggs laid afterwards ?
Deer dies, lion lives for another moment, I move on...


I believed ol Billy Shakspeare when he said
That The World is a stage
Never thought of myself as the producer, director,
But an actor and may be part script writer

Took me a while to realise that
Have merely made a transition
>From human mother's womb to the big Mother's
With ambilical chord intact, am just a jolly spectator !


The Quest had at its roots the mystery of existence
Be it Universe's arising as "something" out of "nothing"
Or that of it's presence eternal
The unfathomable that remains
When relativity, quantum fields, superstrings
And their future descendents become silent

How true it is that familiarity breeds contempt
Resolution could not have been any simpler -
Be it the blade of grass dancing with the winds
Or tiny drop of water tumbling down the hills
In spite of our fine predictions about their future state
The same question, same awe, still remains unanswered !