Whom are we judging

We participate in contests, competitions and get judged for the level of our expertise and finesse in whatever it is that we are competing about. At work we have appraisals where someone is constantly judging our work and mannerisms and skills. But what qualifies someone to be the judge? A few extra degrees? A few extra hours of practice at the art being evaluated? How can we have one standard expectation for a skill level, and use that to judge across people who are so different? What makes them different then? Why is there a need to fit everyone into one box of assessment and grade them? Is this not unfair because everyone is on a different life-path and a different stage in their spiritual evolution and realization of being one making them different; in which case we are judging apples and oranges and not apples and apples necessarily. So in this case how do you even say that one is better than the other?

Or is competition and judging fair for the exact same reasons - that we are all one and hence I am in fact just judging my own self; trying to better myself? But in this case then the whole concept of competition is a facade because how can you compete with your own self and be better than yourself?

So whom are we all being judged against - our own selves or someone so different that the point of comparison is mute? Or should we change the first requirement of all competitions so all souls participating are on the same level which would bring me back to the first point that then there would be no point competing. So then why are we all wasting so much time in our lives comparing and entering contests and judging and getting ourselves shattered with the outcomes? Whom are we judging really?

Everything else is but a dream !

So I don’t know if I am shaking because of all the coffee I had this evening or if its from the movie “Inception”. Now that I mull over the question I think it’s the movie that’s gotten me in this state. How do I know if I am awake or asleep just right now? How do I know what level I am in? What’s my token to keep check on what’s real and what’s not? Then again maybe this is not real. And all the incidents and people in my world are afterall my projections….imperfect projections of my own sub conscious and I am my own subject in my own dream filling it up with all these experiences so I can learn lessons from them and believe that the lessons I learnt are from my own thoughts and creations, but are they really my own thoughts and creations or simply what a higher self of me wants me to think is “my” independent thoughts? Have I then truly created this world? To live in a world that lasts a lifetime but that’s probably only a few minutes or seconds in some higher conscience of mine? How would I ever know? Do I need to die to wake up and realize what is true; to unveil what’s beyond this life and existence? Do I need a kick to jolt me out of this dream where everything is so real and yet not so real? I cannot wait to explore what’s beyond when I wake from this state; probably a glimpse of which I have already tasted once during my meditation where I was indeed living in a world created by myself….but then who is this me? What level of subconscious is this “me” reverberating from? Is that why I have started feeling a sense of detachment at times from this world? Because a part of me realizes that I am asleep and my sub-conscious is jolting me to realize that its time; time to wake up to a new reality? But the true question to ask is why am I here? What brought me here? But if I created all this who is this “I” in the first place? So am I the architect and the subject in this dream? Whats the goal? Whats the purpose? I need to self –enquire, go deeper so I can rise, rise above all that seems to be. I need to push the elevator to the top floor and see what’s there. I need to find my token and keep looking for whatever it is that I am here to take back with me as I rise above !! And till I can do that I need to be the architect of my own dream and continue to build without letting any of the events pull me into limbo, without letting any event get larger than the dream itself. But what if I create a dream so intricate for my own self that I don’t know how to navigate it? Is that what a “messed up” life is supposed to be? What happens to people who create these daringly bold mazes that they get trapped in? is that why we traverse life’s; or in other words die to wake up and then sleep so we can be born again to continue our search; kind of like a diver who needs to return to the surface every now and then for a breath of fresh air only to dive back into the thick dark strange ocean full of endless possibilities to continue searching and building what he seeks to achieve? How far down should I dive to retrieve what it is that I am here for? I guess I will know when its time or that’s probably why I am building these people around me. All I need to do now is dream on and not fear what events I have to traverse in my dream because what I wake up with is what really matters…everything else is but a dream !!

Memories

I remember those days when I was allowed to be an innocent little girl who admired my mother enjoying Seetha Kalyanam as she sat with the transistor perched precariously on the 2 legged rickety wood stool …she always liked listening to cassettes on that “transistor”, as it was known back in the days, since not only was it new but also thinner than the older monstrous player cum radio that we had, with the long antenna, that I so loved extending out all the way coz it would rise to touch the roof of the room….anyways… the monstrosity of a player was always only used to tune in to some tamil songs at 4 pm as the milk was boiling and amma was braiding my sisters’ hair, with me running around buying as much of play time as I could gather without popping up on her radar for not having done my school work….evenings were meant exclusively for the thin new transistor player and as she sat with one ear pressed close to it and eyes closed Maharajapuram Santhanam transferred her to another planet….a planet that I wish I could have accompanied her to for she looked so peaceful while there…away from all the chores and duties and responsibilities….away from everyone, where she could be whatever she wanted…even the little Paru who never forgot to hold out her little finger lest her ring not be seen in the photograph….the face is etched in my memories …. still green and fresh as if from yesterday….and that is one of the memories I will take to my grave…on the days when appa was at home he would join her on that planet…. I will always remember fondly my dearest amma and appa of those days….I wish I could have halted time so those innocent days never ended !! If only wishes were horses ….and then as the evening matured they would go back and forth discussing ragas and singers and songs bygone and there would be perfect harmony…dinner done, the music would continue and we would all lie down with the lights off as BMKrishna or MS or Santhanam weaved in and out of our dreams….sometimes if it was too early for lights off, I would make my bed right in appa’s lap and curl up like a little dizzy pup tired of chasing its shadow....

If tomorrow never comes !

We plan and plan and plan and plan only to wake up and find that tomorrow has its own plan in store for us….like a sand castle that we build so painstakingly only to find that the tide razed it to the ground to make a pattern of its own. And yet we wake up day after day to create the same old plans … what if the concept of tomorrow or the future; the next minute is erased from our permanent memory or pushed beyond the grasp of our minds? Will we then be free? Free to cherish the breath as it enters our body at this very instant and just be?